Stereo Hearts
by autobotjolt101
Summary: Jazz loves Prowl and Prowl loves Jazz, but what problems will arise from keeping their love for eachother in the dark?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Mind you that this is my first PxJ story...I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Stereo Hearts

Rating: T...(ratings will go up for purposes)

Summary: Jazz loves Prowl and Prowl loves Jazz, but what troubles arise from their secrets being kept in the dark?

Disclaimer: I don't own Tranformers...I am just using Prowl and Jazz because I love them!

Well...this is really it. Read, enjoy, and comment :)

* * *

_My heart's a stereo _

_It beats for you, so listen close _

_Hear my thoughts in every no-o-ote _

_Make me your radio and turn me up when you feel low _

_This melody was meant for you _

_Just sing along to my stereo_

* * *

Jazz hummed the tune to the recent top song of pop culture. His radio was wired up internally to his CPU and it played the catchy tune within. If it weren't for the tune to capture the saboteur's thoughts, his personal love interest might. In fact, just peaking beyond the upbeat lyrics, _he_ popped up.

His smile, that dedication that often ended up with exhaustion. His dry sense of humor, the captivating stare of his blue optics, and not to mention those graceful doorwings that adorned the mechs frame elegantly: always perked up to a professional 'V'.

"...Prowl..." Jazz breathed. His shuttered optics only allowed more access into the lovely image of the Autobot SIC. His efforts of trying to get the tactician for himself didn't go without being seen...by others anyway.

Jazz had fallen for the other black and white when they were in the academy together. Like all other crushes had started out, he met the bot, gained a sudden liking, and worked his way to the prize. Jazz was much smarter than going up and asking for a date with Prowl, he'd prefer to win the spark with a show; a good impression if you will.

Trying everything in the book from bringing an Energon cube to him every morning to simply waxing up for an officer meeting to show off his black and white frame; nothing seemed to work. However, Jazz was not one to give up. Jazz would get Prowl one way or another, and he was determined to win the spark of the SIC.

* * *

_If I was just another dusty record on the shelf _

_Would you blow me off and play me like everybody else?_

_If I asked you to scratch my back could you manage that?_

_Like it read well, check it, Travie, I can handle that_

* * *

He set aside the datapad that he had just signed off for one of Wheeljack's experiments. "Primus help us all," He said allowed to the vacant office.

It seemed just like any other orn: wake up, grab a cube, and head to the office for the awaiting datapad pile (not including the officer meetings, the Twins pranks and consequences, and Decepticon attacks).

Granted at the end of the orn itself, there were still joints to have Ratchet loosen and his battle computer was on the verge of shutting off for the night. At times he'd work himself to exhaustion and spend the night in his office.

Prowl sighed and picked up the awaiting datapad for the medical information containing those of the previous Decepticon attack. Cliffjumper and Mirage had been temporarily offline due to a new weapon made by Starscream. Ironhide, Jazz, Smokescreen, Bluestreak, Sunstreaker, and himself had been shot with minor injuries while Sideswipe and Inferno had gone under surgery for CPU wires that had been shot and loss of Energon.

Prowl shook his head. _That probably wasn't one of the best fights that the Autobots had gone into_. Granted, there were still more injuries-and unfortunately losses-to go through before the war would end.

With all this in mind, the tactician's mood was famished for something positive, only to be fed his love for none other than his one true best friend and TIC: Jazz.

The saboteur was one of the most popular Bots on base. His good natured attitude and happy-go-lucky personality was hard to dismiss. Although of course he could be serious when need be but other than that, he was always smiling, joking around, and spreading his mech charm to everyone on base. These traits were only some of the reasons why Prowl fell for him so quickly. Though, his chances of getting with his fellow black and white colleague were slim because, ...well..., what Bot _didn't_ like Jazz?

His smile was above all else his most wonderful physical trait along with his visor. _Primus_, Prowl thought. _What I wouldn't give to wake up to that visor each and every morning_. His physical traits, however, didn't matter much to Prowl though. The tactician cared much more about the spark, and boy did Jazz have one pure spark. He cared for every one of his Autobot teammates; everybot came before him. He genuinely cared for each with a different attitude towards them. Sincerity to the shyest of them like Red Alert and care free to those who enjoyed his likes and dislikes like Blaster. His sense of humor topped all of those traits; it always seemed to brighten up his mood when he was upset.

There were many, _many_ wonderful things that described Prowl's love for his friend; so much that a simple list would go on and on. What he'd give to pour out his feeling to the TIC.

* * *

_Furthermore, I apologize for any skipping tracks _

_It's just the last girl that played me left a couple cracks _

_I used to used to used to. Now I'm over that _

_'Cause holding grudges over love is ancient artifacts_

* * *

However, would Jazz give him a chance at his love fantasy? He was often categorized as up-tight, strict, cold-sparked, hard on others; emotionless...dare he go on? Surely, no wonderful mech like Jazz would want somebot like Prowl.

His dedication to his job and the Autobot cause was precisely what had ended so many relationships with others. Prowl couldn't count all of the times that he'd been called emotionless or a workaholic by the ones he'd hurt with no purpose behind them. He was reminded with each break-up that no one would be able to love something so...so...strict and job-devoted. It often made Prowl wonder if he was truly ever destined for love.

With his final thoughts reflecting Jazz and himself, Prowl sighed again and picked up the datapad that he had absentmindedly set down on his desk. As he began to read again, doubt seeped through the stoic mask of the tactician, plaguing his judgment of his love life and chances with Jazz.

* * *

_If I could only find a note to make you understand _

_I'd sing it softly in your ear and grab you by the hand _

_Just keep it stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune _

_And know my heat's a stereo that only plays for you_

* * *

By now, Jazz was now pacing his room and slightly bobbing on his heels from the tune of the song. His mind began to be bombarded with his feelings of Prowl. How in Primus name would he be able to achieve his life time goal of his best friend's affection?

* * *

_My heart s a stereo _

_It beats for you, so listen close _

_Hear my thoughts in every no-o-ote _

_Make me your radio and turn me up when you feel low _

_This melody was meant for you _

_Just sing along to my stereo_

_Oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh to my stereo _

_Oh oh oh oh so sing along to my stereo _

_If I was an old-school fifty pound boombox (remember them?)_

_Would you hold me on your shoulder wherever you walk _

_Would you turn my volume up in front of the cops (turn it up)_

_And crank it higher everytime they told you to stop_

* * *

Between the tune, the lyrics, and his feelings racing through his processor, seeds of doubt were planted. _It seemed with every good intention that a piece of the mind had to ruin the fun_, Jazz thought.

Jazz tried to swipe at the self esteem bombs that shot throughout his CPU. Planting and spreading their roots of why Prowl wouldn't want to take a chance with the TIC. It seemed to Jazz that he was too boisterous for the tactician. He loved to be in the areas where the music was shaking the ground, while Prowl preferred to be in peace and quiet with his datapads. Jazz was always cracking jokes off and letting things slide like the Twins pranks. Prowl was always at a relaxed position and tolerated no childish behavior from any of his Autobot members. They were too different and it seemed they weren't compatible at all. They were like fire and ice.

Jazz enjoyed partying and hanging out with his friends, and watching over them while being in the action. Prowl was more into staying in his office or quarters, and watching the others on the sidelines.

How would Prowl ever love someone like him? Yes, he was probably the most popular bot on the Ark but, he could possibly care less of what others thought. It seemed the only opinion he was concerned about was Prowl's.

* * *

_And all I ask is that you don't get mad at me _

_When you have to purchase mad D batteries _

_Appreciate every mixtape your friends make _

_You never know we come and go like on the interstate_

* * *

Even if Jazz did get a chance with his love interest, would it all plummet to the ground in a week or would they repulse each other? He was to music while Prowl was to datapads; to Jazz, it didn't correspond with each other.

But...but what if there was a chance?

Jazz looked up from his empty stare at the ground; his pacing stopping. Perhaps there was something that he could try and coax Prowl into going on a date with him. And then maybe, just _maybe_, Jazz could express his feelings to his long time crush.

* * *

_I think I finally found a note to make you understand _

_If you can hit it, sing along and take me by the hand _

_Just keep me stuck inside your head, like your favorite tune _

_You know my heart's a stereo that only plays for you_

* * *

Jazz smiled as his plan was hatched in his processor. Smiling from audio to audio, he shut off the radio and the song. He opened his door to his quarters and walked out to head to Prowl's office where he was sure the tactician would be.

While walking down the hall, he passed Bumblebee who was walking beside Cliffjumper. He waved to them both as he hurriedly walked to his destination. He also passed Hound and Mirage in the hallway.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Hound called out waving and laughing in Jazz's general direction. Jazz stopped his pace and walked back to where Hound stood, Mirage standing with him while his arm rested securely around his lover's waist.

"Jus' gotta go tell Prowler som'in..." Jazz exclaimed excitedly.

"Can't it wait till tomorrow? You'll end up running over someone if you keep up with that pace!" Mirage whined.

Jazz cast a glare at the noble and smiled. "Nah, Ah gotta tell 'im today." Jazz said before turning on his heel and picking up his previous pace to Prowl's office.

In less than a few kliks, Jazz made it to Prowl's office where he stopped for a breath before knocking on the door and waited to be invited in. He worked to slow his spark from its small workout so he wasn't out of breath when he talked to Prowl.

"Come in," Jazz heard through the door.

He gathered in one last breath before he opened the door and walked in to see Prowl. His graceful doorwings at their perky 'V' and his stoic mask staring expectantly at the saboteur.

* * *

_My heart's a stereo _

_It beats for you, so listen close _

_Hear my thoughts in every no-o-ote _

_Make me your radio and turn me up when you feel low _

_This melody was meant for you _

_Just sing along to my stereo_

_Oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh to my stereo _

_Oh oh oh oh so sing along to my stereo_

* * *

Setting aside another datapad, Prowl picked up another one. He skimmed over it for its length, the subject, and what needed to be done before fully going into depth of the detailed reading. His feelings for Jazz were safely bottled up and pushed out of the way. Though the bottle was cracking with each drip that seeped out of the seams; Jazz would slip back into his mind and play that sweet laugh and smile that he only seemed to give Prowl. His visor brightening when he saw him and his excited grin becoming bigger if that were possible.

Prowl smiled with just the thought of Jazz, his best friend, and his love.

Just before Prowl was going to let a small chuckle escape from where his affections were playing around in his circuits, a knock upon the metal door echoed through his office. Prowl looked up and quickly gathered himself and his thoughts together: raising his doorwings to a graceful 'V' on his back and presenting his stoic mask before bellowing, "Come in,"

And to speak of the devil, Jazz walked in with his grin bringing life to his office.

* * *

_I only pray you'll never leave me behind (never leave me)_

_Because good music can be so hard to find (so hard to find)_

_I take your head and hold it closer to mine (yeah)_

_Thought love was dead, but now you're changing my mind (come on whoa)_

* * *

"Jazz, what can I do for you?" Prowl asked fighting a smile that itched to be revealed to the saboteur.

Jazz was grinning from audio to audio that almost made Prowl jump up and hug him...almost. His servos were adorned perfectly and seductively on his hip that screamed out, '_I've got a plan and you re gonna hear it!_'

"Hey, Prowler," Jazz bounced. "Ah, was wonderin' tha' tonigh' would be a clear sky and full moon. Wouldja want ta take a drive with meh tonigh'?" Jazz asked. His grin seemed to grow again; if it were possible.

Jazz was at a loss of words after he spoke his question. He had made plans mentally that he'd take Prowl up to the ridge, where the forest below was lit by the moonlight, and the stars were clearly seen. He didn't know what to expect from the tactician; he often seemed full of surprises when it came to activities outside of work duties.

Prowl looked ahead at Jazz. The question was not accounted for and he was taken off guard. Jazz seemed to tense up slightly after asking his question.

"I will see what I can do. When do you plan on going for this 'drive'?" Prowl asked nonchalantly.

"Well, Ah was hopin' tonigh' if it were cool with ya." Jazz said, his servos dropping from his hips and now working in with his invitation.

Prowl continued to stare at Jazz. His outer features showed no emotion as he trained himself for, however, on the inside, his spark pulsed faster and faster. He itched to smile and hold Jazz close. He fought the little voice in his consciousness that screamed redundantly to reply '_yes,_ _yes, yes_' but he told himself to remain professional about it.

Jazz was asking him to go on a drive? _Him_? Prowl wanted to scream at the top of his voice box with that recuring '**YES**!'

* * *

_My heart's a stereo _

_It beats for you, so listen close _

_Hear my thoughts in every no-o-ote _

_Make me your radio and turn me up when you feel low _

_This melody was meant for you _

_Just sing along to my stereo_

* * *

Prowl looked at Jazz and then held up one digit, motioning him to wait. Prowl looked into his agenda for tonight and tomorrow. Nothing. He put down his digit and looked Jazz in the optics.

Jazz stared back at the icy glaze. Absentmindedly, Jazz's gaze wondered all over the SIC: his glossy sleek doorwings, the shiny crimson chevron that adorned his sleek helm. He brought his gaze back to Prowl where his optics only continued to wonder off the path. They bore holes in the deep inviting blue optics that suggested professionalism, lust, greed, and want. Further down, the pristine nose centered the beautiful face and those lips... Jazz was getting off topic.

He brought himself back to the optics that ordered his attention. He complied with the silent beckon and waited for Prowl to reply.

Prowl hadn't noticed Jazz's optics searching him. He couldn't help but explore the sights before him either. The complimentary colors of the blue and red against the black and white were astounding to look at. The black helm that respectively looking at him with the bright blue visor; it was full of mystery. No one could see Jazz's optics behind his visor but, he was told by Jazz himself, that he was blind. How? Jazz wouldn't go into detail about it and he certainly wasn't one to pry unless the circumstances called upon it.

His optics then rested upon the rest of Jazz's facials: his nose and smooth face plates. The waves of nervousness caressed his frame and the evidence was in the slight dimming of Jazz's visor. His lips were innocent as they rested above his chin where they caressed the gentle slope of his face. He couldn't help but think what it'd be like to kiss those lips.

Prowl pulled out of his fantasy and replied to get his mind off of loving on Jazz. "Yes, I don't seem to have any plans tonight. I suppose we can go out for that drive. When would you like to meet?"

Jazz perked up. His date had been accepted and his spark began thrumming again, threatening to send him into stasis. Ratchet wouldn't be too thrilled to find an unconscious Jazz.

"Great! Wha' 'bout 8 tonigh'?" He asked; careful not to overstep or even imply that it was indeed a date.

That was a reasonable time to Prowl. He nodded, giving his agreement. "Sounds good, I suppose I will see you tonight at the entrance of the Ark."

Jazz smiled again and gave a playful salute before heading out the door. Once he reached outside the office, he let out a small victory cry while thrusting a servo into the air.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Well...here's chapter 2! I hope you enjoy!

Title: Stereo Hearts

Rating: T (rating will go up for puposes)

Summary: Jazz loves Prowl and Prowl loves Jazz...but what conflicts will arise if they keep their secret love from each other?

**Warning: Nothing really, well not now anyway. Well, I do hope you like it because I was up 'till 1 a.m. writing this. Read, enjoy, comment!

* * *

_Wake up Here I go _

_Cram it all down my throat _

_Stomach's so full that I wish I could choke _

_7 A.M. my head's _

_Already in a spin_

* * *

Prowl looked at the door. _Did that really just happen_? He asked himself. Yes, yes it did. He turned his bewilderment to the top of the desk. He couldn't help but smile as big as Jazz. His blue optics brightened as if he were over energized. If he ran into someone while going to meet Jazz at the entrance of the Ark, someone would have their suspicions if they saw his optics now.

A small thump to the floor pulled Prowl out of this thoughts. He looked to his servos and then to the floor; the datapad that he was wielding had fallen out of his loose grasp. Prowl hadn't even realized that he was holding the datapad.

Prowl dropped down onto his knees and picked up his datapad, only to bump his head on the way back up to his previous position. "...Slag..." He muttered rubbing his head. The dent wasn't as big as the dents that Ratchet left when you pissed the medic off.

Quickly brushing off the stunned feeling and pulling himself back into reality, Prowl sat down in his chair at his desk, cleared his vocalizer, and got into the nitty-gritty detail on the datapad. He'd save his enthusiasm behind his mask when he went out with Jazz tonight.

* * *

As soon as I'm out that door

Bam

It hits me like a ton of those red bricks

Can't dig myself out of this highest ditch

This madness

* * *

Jazz was humming again; his radio blasting within his processor and bouncing on his heels down the hall. His optics were shuttered as he used his sensors to guide him to his quarters once again. He chose to freshen up for his date tonight with Prowl. Whether Prowl knew Jazz had just asked him out for a date or not, Jazz counted it as one.

Once he reached his quarters door, Jazz opened his optics open to type in the code that would allow him access and then shuttered his optics again. Not even realizing that the door hadn't slid open yet, Jazz bounced forward. **BAM**!

Falling back on his aft, Jazz looked up to see that his door was now open for his use. Chuckling to himself for his silly behavior and his feelings clouding his actions, Jazz bounced in and headed to his private wash racks.

* * *

I swear sometimes

I can't tell which way is up, which way is down

It's all up in my face need to push it away

Somebody push it away

So all that I can hear

Is a simple song

Sing along now

La la la la la

La la la la

La la la la la

La la la la

* * *

"Ugh, again?" Prowl scowled at the datapad. No wonder Ironhide was chasing after the Twins with murder written in his intentions. They had pulled yet another prank upon the weapons specialist. Changing the ammunition in his cannons once again with a small little banner that said '_Bang!_' when he shot it. _How in Primus name were thay able to accomplish_ that?

He shook his helm and sighed in frustration. _Sometimes those Twins are such a nuisance. Wait, sometimes?_ Prowl thought to himself. As much as he cared for the 'bots on this team, sometimes he either wanted to strangle them all or block them out. Obviously he has only acted upon the second choice.

Sighing again, Prowl sat back in his chair and set aside his datapad. Looking at the time on his chronometer, Prowl just about fell out of his chair. It was 7:55 now. If he didn't lock up and organize now, he'd miss Jazz. Standing up and straightening up his office: datapads in neat stacks of read and have-to-read, chair pushed firmly beneath the desk, and pens put away in their correct area, Prowl headed out to meet the saboteur at the entrance of the Ark.

* * *

Mid day sun beatin' on the concrete

Burnin' up my feet

Too many cars on the street

The noise, the red, the green

Makes me wanna scream

* * *

The moon above was casting its weary glance upon the dusty earth. The wind whispering secrets that no one could hear or even utter across the land. The stars above watched as the cacti slept and the residents of the earth moving in their vehicles. They even stared back at the familiar blue visor that had passed them on his arrival here.

Jazz had his back answering whichever mech walked towards him, seeking his company and companionship. He continued to stare out into the desert that the Ark had landed in, watched as each passing klik promised the arrival of his date tonight.

Prowl walked down the hall, finally spying the familiar black and white frame of the TIC. His helm set at an angle towards the sky and his sleek canopy fracturing the lights above into the optics of the tactician.

Walking up to the saboteur, Prowl stood beside him, staring up into the stars as well.

"Beautiful aren t they? Which one do you suppose is Cybertron?" Prowl asked, gazing into the secret holder of the visor.

Jazz smiled, tearing his gaze from the stars and to the beautiful mech beside him. "Hey, Prowler! Yeah," _Almost as beautiful as you are they are_. "Ah don' know. Ah'm sure tha we'll find out...some day." Jazz grinned back, resuming his stare back to the stars. He took one last glance before looking back to Prowl. "Ya ready ta go?"

Prowl nodded and transformed into vehicular mode, revving the engine into an affirming answer. Jazz followed and soon revved his engine in response.

Soon, the pair set out for their journey together beneath the watching moon and stars. Conversation was small, both nervous of being with their sparks desire. They were content with being in the silence; their optical sensors more focused on the beauty that the night held and their destination that had yet to be revealed by both. It wasn't a secret that Hound was graced with seeing the beauty in the earth s surface; both officers now saw as to why he held such admiration to the planet. It purely was beautiful when urgent calls or the Decepticons perpetual attacks weren't initiated, beauty of the planet was truly seen.

* * *

_Now it's bumper on bumper on bumper horn's honkin'_

_Nobody's lookin' but everybody's talkin'_

_Just another day _

_On this highway_

* * *

"Jazz, did you finish your duties today?" Prowl asked. Both of the officers sat in bipedal mode, leaning back on their servos in the lush green grass that was now covered with the night's shadow. The ledge housed their weight above the billowing evergreens below.

"Aww, Prowler. Ya should have more faith in meh than tha'." Jazz chuckled back.

Prowl stared back but decided there was no use arguing with the music loving 'bot. "I'm just asking. It seems you brush off your duties...I only ask for the sake of my authority."

"Well, if ya mus know, yeah, Ah did finish meh duties today." Jazz chuckled. He shook his helm and stared back tersely before looking back to the stars. "Half tha time Ah brush off meh duties is due to tha insane acts of tha crazy 'bots on tha Ark." Jazz remarked, his tone full of seriousness.

Prowl looked back. Jazz stared at the sky like he did; only something was amiss of the saboteur. His inevitable grin usually printed upon his face plate, now swiped and there stood a line of his lip componets; his face weary and full of tones that usually matched that of Prowl. Jazz was being serious about the crew. No doubt that he loved the crew, which he did with his entire spark. But, was it true that Jazz felt that of Prowl every now and then?

Prowl pulled his gaze from the trees below. He looked to his left to see Jazz pulling his gaze from the stars again to glare back. Prowl's gaze was searching for signs that Jazz was truly telling the truth.

"Are you serious?" Prowl asked, vigilance in his stoic tone.

"Yeah; don' get meh wrong, I love tha crew, it's jus tha' sometimes, they drive meh crazy and Ah jus' wanna get away. This is usually where Ah come to when Ah need to catch a break." He shrugged his shoulder plates.

Jazz looked back to Prowl, seeking the vigilance that Prowl's question demonstrated. He was finding that Prowl truly complied with Jazz's statement. Jazz knew that Prowl would stress himself out with the chaos that the crew brought. There were some members that truly irked the tactician to no end, example: the Twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Others he found, a little too irritating such as a pessimistic Huffer, a noble attitude such as Mirage, or merely the explosions of Wheeljack. Sometimes even the wrench throwing antics of Ratchet got beneath his plating and picked at his circuits.

* * *

I swear sometimes

I can't tell which way is up, which way is down

It's all up in my face need to push it away

Somebody push it away 'cause all I wanna hear

Is a simple song

Sing along now

La la la la la

La la la la

La la la la la

La la la la

* * *

"I understand where you are coming from. Some of the crew has much to learn about patience or even to follow such orders. There are times where I need to get away. Some of which my quarters or even office cannot block out. There are times where I wish to go into battle with the Decepticons more than face yet another day with the crew.

"However, my care and proceeding harsh judgment towards them shows just how much they matter to me. Their safety and crazy antics is what keeps me living each and every orn, and what I will leave behind when Primus deems me my time." Prowl responded.

Jazz stared back, he nodded and he too found himself agreeing to Prowl's word. "Ah understand ya perfec'ly. Ah won' say names, but there are some of tha crew that could use some help. But their sparks are in tha righ' place." Jazz responded.

"Ah do enjoy some of tha crew though. Many of which are fun to hang 'round with. Blaster and tha Twins aren't tha bad." _Neither are you._

"I personally could live without the Twins antics but I suppose I agree, they are not that bad." Prowl replied.

Jazz saw the glimmer of hope in the optics of the other. Jazz sought out the perfect time to tell Prowl just what exactly had been on his mind, how he felt about him. Perhaps Prowl would take the feeling into consideration and equal the odds with shared feelings; would he though? Jazz knew the answer to that, but that would require asking Prowl his secret...did he have to courage? Jazz always told himself that he could do anything because he had the courage, the bravery, the spark to follow through did this count too?

* * *

_Sing along now_

_La la la la la _

_La la la la _

_Sing along _

_La la la la la _

_La la la la_

* * *

Jazz's spark thrummed with anticipation, determination, and desperation. He wondered what Prowl felt for him. He wanted to ask, but, something held him back. Just what exactly held him back; his nerves, the negative part of his processor, the fear of being rejected? All applied to what he felt now.

"Prowl...Ah..." Jazz started, only to shut his mouth after starting. His fear boiling up within him and caused his nerves to scream '_no, no, no! Don't ask, you'll only be rejected!_'

* * *

_What I'd give _

_To turn it off _

_And make it stop, make it stop _

_You gotta make it stop _

_So all that I can hear_

_Is a simple song _

_Sing along now _

_La la la la la _

_La la la la _

_La la la la la _

_La la la la_

* * *

Prowl noticed Jazz struggle with his words, his glossa getting tongue tied if you will. He looked at Jazz's feebleness. He wondered what could possibly be racing through Jazz's processor. _What question or statement could possibly be tangled in Jazz's words_? Prowl decided he'd figure it out when Jazz spoke of it.

"Prowl...um..."

"Yes, Jazz?" He prodded, hoping to gather Jazz's words into a straight line and in working order.

Jazz decided against his better judgment to be blunt about his question and hold his glossa. He went along with a miscellaneous and a meaningless question instead.

"What did tha Twins do ta piss off ol' 'Hide?" Jazz knew the answer to that one, Sideswipe let Jazz know before him and his twin did the action that just about got their afts blown off.

Prowl stared at Jazz: he faltered his question. "Um they replaced his ammunition with-"

::Prowl,::

::Jazz,::

Both Prowl and Jazz's comm. links went off at the same time; Optimus's deep baritone voice echoing throughout the communication.

::There is an emergency officer meeting in about 5 nonokliks. Please be present,::

"Well, we better get going to the meeting before Red Alert has a fit." Prowl said standing up and then transforming.

Jazz nodded before following through with Prowl's actions. Soon after, the two drove off towards the Ark without a single word or communication lingering between them.

* * *

_La la la la la _

_La la la la _

_La la la la la _

_La la la la_

* * *

_Maybe I'll get my chance next time_...Jazz thought. He kicked up his power and drove next to Prowl a little a head of him.

* * *

**A/N: I forgot to mention that last song was 'Stereo Hearts' by _Gym Class Heroes ft. Adam Levine, _this song is 'Simple Song' by _Miley Cyrus. _Okay that's it. The next chapter will be up soon, so for now, hang tight :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here's Chapter 3...I will adit that it might not be as good as I thought it would be, but that's just my opinion; it's your opinino that matters. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Title: Stereo Hearts

Rating: T (ratings will go up for purposes)

Summary: Jazz loves Prowl and Prowl loves Jazz, but what problems will arise for keeping their secret in the dark?

**Warning: There is a bit of mech/mech stuff (no graphic seens however but more like bonded pairs), but if you're not into the slash stuff then please don't read. Other than that, please read, enjoy, and comment!

Cybertronian Time Measurements as I Use Them

-**Klick**: Second

-**Nanoklick**: Minute

-**Vorn**: Hour

-**Orn**: Day

-**Decacycle**: Year

**They're all used in the story**

* * *

_Here we go again _

_I kinda wanna be more than friends _

_So take it easy on me _

_I'm afraid you're never satisfied_

* * *

Prowl and Jazz walked into the private room where the officers sat chatting away, waiting for Optimus to arrive. Ratchet, the Autobot CMO, sat with his arms crossed across his chassis. Ironhide sat beside the medic, prodding him about something that was bound to get a wrench chucked at him. Beside Ironhide was Perceptor, sitting quietly next to a paranoid Red Alert who started one of his vigilance fits-and this time it wasn't between the late coming of Jazz or Prowl.

Across the table of Ratchet and Ironhide, a chatty Wheeljack sat talking and laughing with a happy and joking Blaster. They seemed at ease: Blaster with one foot squared over the thigh and an arm swung over the back of the chair. Wheeljack however, was sitting cross-legged and throwing his head back to laugh aloud.

Jazz gave Blaster a wide grin once he and the communications officer had made eye contact. He saluted him with two digits to the forehelm and checking off into the air. He then took his place on the left side of where Prime sat and watched as Ironhide was fighting a losing battle with the CMO.

Prowl however, bid a greeting to that of Perceptor and Red Alert, nodding gently in their direction. He too cast a glance at Ironhide and shuttered his optics to shake his head. He looked down to Wheeljack and nodded his greeting as well as Blaster. Soon taking his seat on the right side of Prime's chair, Prowl crossed his servos in his lap and looked to the door where Optimus now entered.

"Good evening, there is discussion about recent Decepticon activity reported by Skyfire. It seems they have been remaining silent but considering evasive action soon."

"If they've been waiting this long, they've been planning something big; to wipe us out no doubt." Red Alert hissed. He held his hands out in front of him in an abrasive offering manner. His helm showed signs of blue electricity sparking near his audio horns. It wasn't surprising to see the master of paranoia fritzing about a subject of caution such as this.

"If the Decepticons are planning an attack and when they intend to pursue the attack upon the base, we should be ready. From the current condition of our last run in with the Decepticons, our victims of Starscream's improved and therefore more powerful null ray, our Special Ops team is in working order, Ratchet?" Prowl asked, turning his attention to the brooding medic.

"Yes, I have repaired all damages to their frames. However, Sideswipe and Inferno are still under berth rest orders to stay out of fights. Risking their safety at how low their performance is now, would result in the safety of the others."

"Yes and our front line warriors have been training non-stop as of late. The continuity of their training should put them in top condition for a surprise attack. Ironhide, what are the stats for the shooting rangers and their performance?"

Ironhide turned his helm to the Second in Command from communicating with Ratchet via their bond. His thoughts gathered as he was called upon for information.

"Bluestreak continues ta rise in performance. Each battle protocol that tha trainin' requires is bein' followed through and each target is bein' shot through their trainin'. So far, our snipers should be able to shoot 'em down at top notch."

Optimus in turn nodded his helm. "Jazz, how is the training coming to for infiltrations and mission work?"

"Ah got 'em trainin' through protocol twice an orn. We should be able ta beat tha 'Cons at their own game if they attack." Jazz snickered. Optimus nodded.

Throughout the meeting, each officer was asked for their performances and their protocols as well as their current position.

Wheeljack had successfully built an exact replica of Starscream's null ray, using the specs stolen from the wounds of Sideswipe and Inferno. Perceptor had scientific theories of experiments for first aid treatment and Special Ops agents when gone undercover. Red Alert, as usual had security monitored every klick of every nanoclick of every orn. His paranoia was taken to good use when it involved the safety of his comrades. And lastly, Blaster had reported no Decepticon communication waves from Soundwave or Astrotrain for that matter. It seemed that everything was at the level assumed for working order.

"And now for a more inviting matter: as you all know, that it is Officer Appreciation Week for the Autobots. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have volunteered to throw the annual party this Friday." Optimus started.

"Primus help us all," Prowl mumbled into his hand.

* * *

_Here we go again _

_We're sick like animals we play pretend _

_You're just a cannibal _

_And I'm afraid I won't get out alive _

_I won't sleep tonight_

* * *

The last time that the Twins had volunteered, their "special" High-Grade had sent the entire crew into a hung over mess. He would admit that their brew wasn't that bad, but one cube was like two bottles of beer. Even Red Alert had gotten drunk and only found himself in a berth with Inferno. Of course the two were bonded so it wasn't a surprise that they had interfaced; what _was_ a surprise was that it was Red Alert of all mechs that would allow him to do something like that.

Prowl went for a couple of nanoklicks, had a cube, and after he felt himself a little ditzy, he soon left. It was a wise move before Blaster had cranked up the music and the party became out of hand. As soon as the night had ended, Prowl along with Optimus had gone to see what the outcome had came to be. Mechs were either on the floor passed out or missing to either interface themselves sick or left for their quarters. The next orns duties weren't much better either: "hangovers" was the one word that explained the situation.

"Aw c'mon, it won' be tha' bad." Blaster said coolly, placing a glance upon Prowl.

"I don't want a repeat of last decacycles Officer Appreciation Week party. You were either passed out from interfacing or passed out in general." Prowl whined.

Jazz chuckled. "It won' be tha' bad, Prowler. Maybe this time you'll stay and jus' chill."

"Absolutely not!" Prowl objected, stamping his fists onto the table.

* * *

_Oh oh I want some more _

_Oh oh what are you waiting for _

_Take a bite of my heart tonight_

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Prowl admitted; his optics staring up at the orange ceiling in defeat. He allowed Jazz to drag him down to the rec. room.

"Nah, c'mon; it'll be fun!" Jazz cheered. He yanked on the white servo in his black one, pulling the tactician along.

Prowl shook his head. _Didn't I recall that I _wasn't_ going to go to the party?_ He asked himself. He didn't want to end up drunk and hung over the next day. It was a bad example for the SIC and commanding officer to show such poor responsibility, and to his _own_ commanding officer and to his job. Not to mention the fact that he had to act as a role model for those of the younger 'Bots. He refused to drop to the level as to lower his respect for himself.

Jazz, however, was the complete opposite. He knew his duties and when to take things seriously. But when it came to music, partying, hanging with friends, and the High-Grade, Jazz pushed all that aside. Jazz lived in music his whole life, even when he was a sparkling and youngling into adulthood. The freedom he found in the tune, how nothing else mattered but the beat that pulsed through his circuits when he subjected himself into the music. That, for which Prowl admired.

Jazz arrived at the doorway with dragging Prowl behind him. Their optics lit a lighted path to guide them into the rec. room. The room was dark; red, blue, white, and green lights were flicking off and on in a colorful array throughout the area. A table was set up off to the side for Blaster to fit the natural role of the DJ. Another table was set up for the Twins brewed High-Grade. Mid and Low Grade was served as well, it was probably certain that no one wanted a repeat of last decacycle.

The crew waited patiently inside the rec. room for the officers. Seeing that they were only waiting for Perceptor and Red Alert; no doubt they were hiding. Wheeljack had probably gone after Perceptor and Inferno after Red. Prowl had a feeling that the two humble and quiet mechs would stay for the announcement, have a few Low Grades, then head off back to their tasks.

* * *

_Oh oh I want some more _

_Oh oh what are you waiting for _

_What are you waiting for _

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight_

* * *

"Wow, they really went far out, didn' they?" Jazz asked rhetorically.

"Indeed. Well, I saw the party. I'm off," Prowl tried to make a hasty escape.

"Oh, no; I don' think so, Prowler. You're gonna stay and relax. Ya don' need ta go back to your office an work. You're stayin'!" Jazz demanded. This was one of the times that Jazz actually _used_ his authority when he wanted something done.

Prowl pulled his hand free and crossed his servos over his chassis. "...Fine..." He murmured.

It wasn't long before Perceptor was dragged in by Wheeljack; well more like shoved in then anything. Red Alert was next; only, he was in an uncomfortable position. He was strewn across Inferno's broad shoulder and carried in. The crowd laughed before the Twins got up to announce the officers by name and thank them.

"Hey, thanks for commin' to the Officer Appreciation Week annual party," Sideswipe started.

"Yeah, thanks. Well we're here to thank our leader Optimus Prime," Sunstreaker announced. The crowd cheered and clapped for their Prime.

"And Prowl and-"

"Jazz." Sideswipe bumped his brother aside with his hip, pushing him out of the way. Sunstreaker came back and punched his twin in the shoulder, throwing Sideswipe off balance and into the mic.

"-and Ratchet," Sideswipe huffed.

"That's right. If you do anything stupid, your afts will be welded to the ceiling. You'll be _watching_ everyone dancing instead of dancing yourselves, you idiots!" Ratchet called, pulling out his wrench.

Sideswipe elbowed Sunstreaker and vice versa. "Ironhide and Wheeljack,"

"Red Alert and Perceptor, and last but not least, Blaster."

"Thank you guys for watching out for our safety and chewing our afts off when we do something stupid." Sideswipe concluded. Once everyone clapped and cheered, the music starting, the Twins began to fight and bicker again. It wasn't uncommon to find them like this, it was usually worse when they'd fight over something stupid such as Sunstreaker's paint job: _Primus forbid_.

* * *

_Here we are again _

_I feel the chemicals kickin' in _

_It's getting heavy and I wanna run and hide _

_I wanna run and hide_

* * *

The dance picked up, the music blaring. Prowl sat in the corner watching the other mechs having fun. He sipped lightly on a High-Grade; nursing the thirst and lust that plagued his glossa as he swallowed each sip.

Jazz was in the middle of a bundle of mechs, getting lost in the music. Blaster was happily bobbing his frame to the beat of the bass. Sunstreaker was dancing next to Tracks and Sideswipe with Bluestreak. As expected, Perceptor and Red Alert had grabbed a Low-Grade and high-tailed it out of the chaotic area. Red happily retreated to the monitor room and Perceptor back to the lab to experiment more on his projects.

Optimus was sitting in a chair off to the side talking with Ratchet who had no patience for getting drunk and doing stupid actions such as interfacing with Ironhide or possibly the Twins themselves; if he did, it wouldn't be the first time.

Prowl still kept watch. Eventually he ran out of his cube of High-Grade and went back to retrieve another.

"Prowl," The tactician heard his designation and looked up to see Smokescreen addressing his attention.

"Yes?"

"It's been a while since I've actually been able to talk to you without you barking orders at me." Smokescreen replied gently.

Prowl bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Indeed. How are you, Smokescreen?"

"I'm fine, thank you. How about you?" Smokescreen gestured to the chairs that sat empty in the corner. Prowl led the way to a pair of chairs that stood alone.

"I'm doing my work and re-energizing myself as I must, thank you for asking. Why aren't you dancing?"

"I'm healing from the recent Decepticon attack. My joint in my doorwing had been shot and well I honestly don't want to walk out into the crowd and risk having it ache again." Smokescreen chuckled. He brought his cube up to his lip components to take a sip of his own High-Grade.

"I do know that doorwings are sensitive. I don't think that I'd like to head out into the crowd either with an injury of such." Prowl chuckled.

* * *

_I do it every time _

_You're killin' me now _

_And I won't be denied by you the animal inside of you_

_Oh oh I want some more _

_Oh oh what are you waiting for _

_Take a bite of my heart tonight_

* * *

It had been a vorn since Prowl had decided that he was going to bail on the party. Obviously denying the fact that he was going to leave any time soon, Prowl had spent the vorn talking to Smokescreen. The two had recalled their memories while in Praxus, their background stories and what had led them to become part of the Autobot army. The two Praxians were able to agree that since their home city had been destroyed and left to the Pit, they had came to show that Praxians were tough and weren't going out without a fight of their own; it had become personal.

Prowl had gotten up to grab another High-Grade; his third one that night. His processor was beginning to feel a little fuzzy, his sight blurred. He blinked and he pushed aside the feeling; the want to stay up and talk with Smokescreen. He thought that if he was down here, he might as well spend his time doing something useful.

He would admit that while crushing on Jazz, he had a blossom of a crush on Smokescreen. He was a little bit younger than him, but then so was Jazz. He figured that if he could have Jazz, he could have Smokescreen just as easily. He was getting to know his comrade a bit more than just by the simple application turned in.

* * *

_Oh oh I want some more _

_Oh oh what are you waiting for _

_What are you waiting for _

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight_

* * *

It wasn't long before Prowl's processor was plagued by the sweet taste of the toxic Energon on his glossa. He excused himself from Smokescreen and went to find Jazz. He was stumbling slightly, his steps hitching every now and then.

Prowl had way to much High-Grade. _You'd think that he'd watch how much High-Grade he consumed_. Smokescreen thought to himself, watching Prowl stumble away.

Smokescreen's own processor was becoming fuzzy as well and he too had a crush upon the SIC. He didn't know how to explain such feelings but he knew they were there. His crush blossomed and bloomed after Prowl had save him from a fire by Megatron's plasma cannon. He had sworn that his spark was in Prowl's debt; _perhaps that debt could be repaid_. He could show Prowl just how much he loved him. Of course, Prowl was too intoxicated to even realize where or what he was doing.

The SIC was headed right for another cube of High-Grade. _That would make that his fourth one tonight! Primus, he s going to be hung over tomorrow_.

* * *

_Hush, hush the world is quiet _

_Hush, hush we both can't fight it _

_It's us that made this mess why can't you understand?_

_Whoa, I won't sleep tonight I won t sleep tonight_

* * *

Jazz had been dancing within the crowd for two vorns now. He was having the time of his life. Showing off his moves in the middle of the dance floor with Mirage who shared the floor. The both of them seemed to have a dance contest: seeing who made the best dancer in the Ark. Who knew Mirage could dance like _that_? The noble was able to do moves that required flexibility and strength with the upper body. Flips and spins, no wonder Mirage was such a crowd pleaser.

Jazz was equally talented. Even though Jazz also danced in a career before he became TIC of the Autobot forces, he had a double life too. Learning break dance moves that he had seen out on the streets of the city, Jazz decided to try them out and what do you know? He mastered them as easy as a slice of oil cake. He loved to dance; it was obvious within the ranks. Blaster knew music and what tracks to hit, and Jazz knew how to hit the move and make the crowd scream and holler with enthusiasm.

It wasn't long before a draw was announced between the two Special Ops agents. The two agreed, shook hands, and the circle disappeared within the crowd. Jazz watched for Prowl who sat with Smokescreen, sipping on a High-Grade. He didn't want to claim the tactician for himself; the diversionist could have a fair chance at winning his Prowl. Wait, _his Prowl_? That didn't sound right. Prowl belonged to anyone, right?

Jazz decided to brush off the tinge in his spark that envied Smokescreen for having Prowl to himself in the moment. He went back to dancing and before long, he checked back to see Prowl with Smokescreen. Only the scene was a little different from the last time he looked over in the direction. Smokescreen by his lonesome with a mischievous smile printed upon his lip components. He checked the Energon table and saw no Prowl. He looked over to the corner where Optimus sat with Ratchet, still talking and keeping an eye on the crowd. He glanced over to Blaster: no Prowl. Did he wonder out into the-

"Hey, Jazz!" Hearing his designation, Jazz turned his head to see a staggering Prowl wonder into the crowd.

"Hey, Prowler. Ya look a litt'e different ya feelin' a'ight?" He asked.

Prowl nodded swiftly and started moving to the beat of the music. He soon began to dance hard, his fans kicking in to cool himself free of the curse of the music.

Prowl was intoxicated. _How many cubes did he have?_

* * *

_Here we go again _

_Here we go again _

_Here we go again_

_Oh oh I want some more _

_Oh oh what are you waiting for _

_Take a bite of my heart tonight_

* * *

"Prowler, how many High-Grades did ya have? You're gonna have a processor crash if ya keep drinkin' tha' stuff." Jazz asked, concerned.

Prowl giggled. Oh yeah, he was definitely drunk. "'Bout, two or three maybe four." He laughed, oddly finding his claim amusing.

"Prowl, Ah'm glad you're havin' a good time, but keep off tha High-Grade." Jazz pleaded.

"Allllllright." Prowl giggled again. He was dancing like a lunatic now. Twirling around like a youngling trying to get dizzy. He was every now and then swaying his hips deliciously, his doorwings swaying beautifully with the frame, and the smile printed along his face. _He really was having a good time wasn't he?_

Jazz shrugged and decided to dance with the tactician, making him giggle even more. They synchronized into a famous Cybertronian dance routine. They leaned forward and clapped; then twirled twice forward and putting their palms flat to each others and turning to the others side, only to repeat the routine again. They went through the dance three to four times, having a few of the couples joining in too.

* * *

_Oh oh I want some more _

_Oh oh what are you waiting for _

_What are you waiting for _

_What are you waiting_

_Here we go again _

_Here we go again _

_Here we go again _

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight_

* * *

The two settled back from their dance line and settled down into twirling each other around. Prowl was still giggling but began to get sloppy in his movements. He ended up tripping over his pedes and face planted the floor.

"PROWL!" Jazz yelled. He kneeled down to pick up the intoxicated tactician and turned him over to check over any injuries that he might have sustained. Thank Primus there was no damage, but his processor was saying no to logic as Prowl started laughing from his stupidity of falling.

"That was funnieeeeeeee!" He said. "Leeet's do that againnnnn!"

"Let's not," Jazz said relieved. He helped the SIC to his feet and walked him back over to where Smokescreen sat alone, watching the others with intent playing in his blue optics.

"Hey, Smokey. Can ya watch after Prowl? Make sure he's a well not gettin' into too much trouble?"

"Sure, Jazz. Prowl won't leave my sights." Smokescreen agreed, bowing his head in ascent.

"Thanks, mech; Ah'm gonna go grab 'im a Low-Grade and Ah'll give it to 'im ta cancel out tha High-Grade." Jazz explained. Smokescreen bowed again.

* * *

_Oh oh I want some more _

_Oh oh what are you waiting for _

_Take a bite of my heart tonight _

_Oh oh I want some more _

_Oh oh what are you waiting for_

_What are you waiting for _

_Say goodbye to my heart tonight_

* * *

Jazz went back to table of Energon and picked the lowest grade. He turned to head back to where Smokescreen and Prowl were sitting at, only to find the chairs empty. He looked around the rec. room and tried to spot the two doorwinged mechs. Not by Blaster, not in the crowd, or near Optimus or Ratchet. Jazz began to get worried and looked to the doorway to see a pair of white and black doorwings exit.

With suspicion rising in his circuits, Jazz walked after the pair still carrying the Energon. He peered out the doorway and saw Prowl slip behind a wall. Jazz easily followed on tip-toe to see where Prowl was going. Making himself as quiet at possible, Jazz scouted the orange tinted wall to look around the corner.

He stopped dead short when Prowl giggled in excitement. His doorwings perking up to a sloppy 'V', his smile reeked of intoxication and oblivion. Holding Prowl tightly to his frame, blue arms embraced that of white. A yellow chevron met that of crimson, while blue and red doorwings branded with 38 were pressed up against the wall.

Another giggle escaped Prowl as a very sober Smokescreen smiled down at him. Lips pressed up against the others, making the scene even more spark-wrenching.

Twisting and squeezing was how Jazz's spark felt. The kiss hurt: big time, but what had shattered his spark, was the fact that Prowl didn't shy away from the other; he complied! He went along with it! You'd think that someone as smart as Prowl would have enough sense as to say 'no' when need be, not play along with the gambler's sick game.

When Smokescreen pushed off the wall and headed into his quarters with a wry smiling Prowl following, that was when the distinct sound of shattering emanated from beneath the saboteurs chest plating.

* * *

A/N: The song is 'Animal' by _Neon Trees_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry that it took a while to upload the chapter. I'm kinda dragging Jazz through the Pit. I do hope that you enjoy the chapter though

Title: Stereo Hearts

Rating: T (ratings will go up for purposes)

Summary: Jazz loves Prowl and Prowl loves Jazz, but what troubles will arise as they keep their feelings in the dark?

**Warning: There are suggestive themes of bondage, suggestive themes of interface (M/M), Cybertronian curse and our cursings today. I think that's all the notices in this chapter. Anyway read, enjoy, and comment! :)

Cybertronian Time Measures as I Use Them

**-Joor: Week**

**-Breem: Month**

**These are the only time measures that are in this chapter**

* * *

_Easy come, easy go _

_That's just how you live _

_Take, take, take it all but you never give_

* * *

"...H-How could he...?" Jazz pondered the question. Jazz was sitting in one of the vacant chairs in the room. He had walked back into the party not long after seeing-_no_, he wasn't going to remember that look in Prowl's optic. The gentle smile that adorned his intoxicated lips and the twinkle that his optics gave Smokescreen. The same look on the gamblers faceplate.

Maybe Jazz wasn't the one. After all, it was unknown if Prowl really did love him back. Maybe Prowl had a small crush on Jazz and on Smokescreen but went after the gambler instead. There was always that possibility, but Jazz didn't even want to think of that.

To try and get his mind off of what he saw, Jazz turned to the crowd dancing beneath the lights. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were dancing with theirs truly, Bluestreak. Mirage to Hound and Inferno with Ironhide.

Jazz sighed and dropped his head; he still held the Low-Grade that he was going to give to Prowl. Jazz looked into the cube and saw a face stare back. The Energon reflected a fading blue visor that dimmed. The brightness of laughter was gone and so was the spirit that peered back. The lip components were pulled down into a disappointed frown. The one in the pink liquid stared back confused; normally those lips were sewn into his cheek plates with a wide grin. Everything was in disarray; where was the _life_ in the mech?

"...Gone..." Jazz whispered, answering that of the question coursing through his processor.

Jazz got up and threw away the cube. A waste of Energon it may be, but why bother putting it back on the table when it was meant for someone else s lips'

* * *

_Should've known you was trouble from the first kiss _

_Had your eyes wide open _

_Why were they open?_

* * *

Why didn't Jazz see it sooner? Smokescreen's planning smile was plastered out in the open. He made that face during battle before he chose to take action that often ended with one of the Decepticons scattered around the war area. If Smokescreen had that same smile on his faceplates before he took advantage of Prowl, Jazz could have noticed that something was up. But, no; he decided to brush off the look as if it were one of Ratchet's "Wheeljack's-blow-up-half-the-base-fits".

Jazz didn't even notice the matter-of-fact tone in his voice when he said he'd keep an optic on Prowl. What was coursing through Jazz's mind to not catch that? For Primus sake, he was an infiltrator and was trained to _know_ when something was up; that's why he was top spy and head of Special Operations. He was _made_ for that kind of thing!

Just the thought of how music and the charm of Prowl got to his processor sickened Jazz. What kind of TIC failed to notice something amiss in the gambler and diversionist? He had a reputation to mislead the enemy and sometimes his comrades.

"Its not even worth it anymore. Ah'm sure Prowl enjoyed his evenin' with Smokescreen." Jazz said to himself. "Ah still love 'im though and nothin' will ever change that."

After the faint disappointment in his voice, Jazz got up to leave on the note of a positive in his processor. Knowing that his feelings for Prowl were still in tact, forced Jazz not to falter his goal in winning the tactician over in the future.

* * *

_Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash _

_You tossed it in the trash, you did _

_To give me all your love is all I ever asked _

_'Cause what you don't understand_

* * *

Quietly making his way through the crowd, Jazz said good night to his fellow teammates and congratulated those of his fellow officers. Normally Jazz would stay for the whole party, dancing like there was no tomorrow; tonight turned out to be a disaster.

Many of his friends had asked him if the saboteur was alright. They knew when something was amiss about the happy-go-lucky 'Bot. Jazz simply glued on a smile that had no meaning, nodded, and assured them that everything was fine. Jazz thought they had fallen for it, but he knew better than to trust his better judgment.

He walked out of the room and went straight to his quarters, not even bothering to re-energize before he went into recharge for the night.

Jazz went into his private wash-racks, washed the condensation on his armor off, and climbed himself into his berth. Jazz looked to the berth-side table on his right and stared into a familiar face.

* * *

_Is I'd catch a grenade for you _

_Throw my hand on a blade for you _

_I'd jump in front of a train for you _

_You know I'd do anything for you_

* * *

The small smile that no one else could match, the loving and compassionate optics that stared back. The shade of blue had showed that he wasn't amused with taking the picture. The sun reflected nicely off of the armor that adorned his frame and the backdrop was beautiful. Jazz blinked his optics to alleviate the building up of cleanser. He turned the picture around and turned his back to the table. Jazz curled himself into a ball and that was when all the cleanser that leaked behind the barriers poured out and down his cheeks. _Maybe tomorrow will be less painful._

* * *

_I would go through all this pain _

_Take a bullet straight through my brain _

_Yes, I would die for you, baby _

_But you won't do the same _

_No, no, no, no_

* * *

The hallway was crowded with mechs walking sluggishly, Prowl among them. Hangovers, aching joints, and aching interface panels. Others who were smart with their time limit such as Perceptor, Red Alert, and Jazz himself were saying hello to each 'Bot they had passed; well...Red and Percy did, Jazz kept his helm to the ground and the others watched with curiosity and concern.

However, just because hangovers and damaged interface panels that prevented some mechs to walk didn't falter the duties from going unfinished. Patrols, monitor duty, volunteer work, and even inventory check carried on as usual. There was an officer meeting this after noon and all officers were required to attend: no matter what state you were in. To be quite honest, Jazz wasn't looking forward to seeing a grumpy CMO, a griping weapon's specialist, or an interfacing best friend. But Jazz chose not to let it bother his mood-not that it would help either-and suck it up and deal with it. After all, it wasn't that big of a deal...was it?

"Hey, Jazz!" Jazz turned around to see a beaming Smokescreen standing behind him.

"Hi, Smokescreen." Jazz said solemnly. Right now, Jazz didn't want to talk to anyone, and he _definitely_ didn't want to talk to Smokescreen; not after what he had done last night.

"Jeez Jazz; you look like the Pit. You okay? I was hearing around that you've been quiet."

"Nah, mech; jus'...tired. So, doya know where Prowl went las' night? Ya kinda disappeared on meh when Ah returned." Jazz asked, already knowing the answer.

Smokescreen tensed up and scratched the back of his neck. "Um, yeah. I took Prowl back to his quarters so he could rest. I returned to mine soon after." Smokescreen said, placing a cheesy smile on his guilty faceplate. "Sorry for not telling ya sooner,"

"Oh, well did Prowler have a good rest then?" Jazz bit through his denta. He fought every circuit in his body to keep his servos relaxed and to keep them down by his side so he couldn't strangle the lying mech.

"Yep, he should be walking around here somewhere. Well, I gotta get to my duties; I'll see ya around." Smokescreen said, waving a goodbye to the TIC.

"Yeah, see ya." Jazz bit back again. Once the diversionist was out of sight, Jazz let a growl rip loose and continue on his way to the officer meeting.

* * *

_Black, black, black and blue _

_Beat me 'til I'm numb _

_Tell the devil I said "Hey" when you get back to where you're from_

* * *

The meeting wasn't that much great either. It seemed that only Jazz, Perceptor, and Red Alert were the only ones not complaining about a hangover. Optimus was struggling to try and hide the fact that he had a processor ache; Ratchet was trying to keep his servo from whipping out his wrench and beat his mate. Ironhide was griping about how it was too early for this and he'd rather spend the rest of his time in the berth with you-know-who. Wheeljack was resting his helm on his arms that crossed on the table, Perceptor shoving him lightly to keep him awake. Blaster was fighting to stay awake while Red Alert beside him was wide awake. And Prowl...well Jazz knew about Prowl

Jazz sat on the left side of a grumpy Prime while Prowl sat on the other side. Each one of the officer's optics studied each other: irritation, disgust, or worry playing along their features. Jazz's was neither irritation, disgust, nor worry, it was more of depression, betrayal, and shock. The phrase _'how could he?_' played repeatedly through his processor; much like a catchy tune that was simple and sweet.

"Last nights events were...well we all know the effects of it." Optimus started. "But, we're not discussing how well one was in the berth last night; we're here to discuss what Red Alert had picked up last night."

Red Alert nodded and began to speak, gaining the unwanted attention of the others.

"Last night while you all were partying; I came across movement in one of the outside sectors: Sector I8 to be precise. It seemed to be Laserbeak watching us, making sure we weren't aware, but he was wrong. I was. I think we should be on the lookout for the Decepticons. If Laserbeak was watching us, they're planning something.

"Mind you, I had my suspicions from the start. I told you that they were planning something if they were quiet and in the dark for so long." A flash of blue electricity decorated the auditory horns of Red's helm lightly before they went back to being neutral.

"We must find out what they're planning so we don't get a repeat of a surprise attack two breem ago." Red Alert continued.

Optimus looked up wearily but nodded. "You're opinion has been noted. If Red states the truth, then we must find out what they are planning. A scouting and infiltrating mission will be taken place in the next few orns, possible next joor. 'Till then, be on the lookout and stay alert on Decepticon spies."

The officers all nodded in agreement and awaited further commands of the Prime.

"Dismissed," Optimus said and just like everybot else, high-tailed it out of there.

* * *

_Mad woman, bad woman _

_That's just what you are _

_Yeah, you smile in my face then rip the brakes out my car_

* * *

Jazz got up and pushed in his chair silently. He kept his helm up and luckily no one could see his optics; because the arches that lined the bottom of his forehelm, were quirked up into a saddened look. Even though Prowl was slightly hung over, and admittedly in pain, he saw a change in his friend.

Prowl, like any other 'Bot did to Jazz when they saw a flaw, approached the mech. By now the other black and white was near the exit and by the speed of Prowl, he wouldn't be able to catch up.

"Jazz," He called.

Jazz heard Prowl call him, he turned around and found Prowl walking towards him slowly. His pedes shook with the weight and he limped ever so slightly. His pace was slow, not like his normal swift and graceful movement.

"Yeah?" Jazz called back, worried by what the SIC might have to say.

"Jazz, you seem off. Is there something wrong?"

Jazz blinked behind his visor and his vents hitched. He hesitated before answering his best friend, a trusted friend that stood in front of him.

"N-no, Prowler. Everythin's goin' fine. Wha' 'bout you? Ah missed ya las' nigh'; ya doin' okay?" Jazz asked. He knew the answer, much like he knew Smokescreen, but he wanted to hear the truth for himself; hoping that his optics deceived him last night.

This time it was Prowl's turn to hitch his vents. It was obvious that either Prowl knew that Jazz knew, or that he was scared to speak the truth. There was always the lie that stood on the right side; coaxing you to use the strategy that would later on result in a personal war. Or there was the truth that stood on the left side, waiting to be found in the dark room where no one ever looked first. Prowl contemplated hard. He didn't want to lie to his friend, but he couldn't hurt him either.

"Smokescreen walked me to my quarters last night. I'm terribly sorry for not accepting the Energon that you went to recover for me last night." That answer seemed worthy, right?

Jazz heard the excuse before. Smokescreen had used it. The two were trying to hide their own afts; they were in on it and that meant they were in a relationship that blossomed over night during an interfacing session. _How could he?_

Jazz nodded, not showing any sign of hurt or pain on his faceplates or even lit in his visor. "A'ight. Well, at least ya got a decent recharge las' nigh'. I gotta get goin' to meh next duty on the command deck. Maybe Ah'll catch ya around."

Prowl nodded and watched as his friend bowed his head. But, when Jazz lowered his helm, he kept it there and stayed there as he watched him walk away.

* * *

_Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash _

_You tossed it in the trash, yes you did _

_To give me all your love is all I ever asked _

_'Cause what you don't understand_

* * *

For the past few weeks, Jazz kept his distance from Prowl. Not for the benefit of hurting himself, but for the fact that he wasn't the one. Jazz's bright attitude was dull and depressed. He every now and then only joked with his best friends Blaster and the Twins. He didn't go to the party's that were thrown for fun or even exceeded in his Patrol duties; Jazz remained quiet and worried the Ark's crew.

Jazz saw Ratchet under order from Optimus who saw his armor starting to dull. Though the effect was usually cast upon those who were bonded but no longer were, it could be placed upon others too. Not out of the fact for sickness or even a relationship gone wrong, but out of depression. What Ratchet had suspected was from a thought of the Decepticons attacking or even being watched. It wasn't paranoia or even fright, but merely...depression.

Every night in his quarters was the same routine: wash-racks, stare at the picture of Prowl, and cry to sleep. It wasn't healthy for Jazz, and if he kept it up, he'd have one major issue with Ratchet.

* * *

_Is I'd catch a grenade for you _

_Throw my hand on the blade for you _

_I'd jump in front of a train for you _

_You know I'd do anything for you _

_I would go through all this pain _

_Take a bullet straight through my brain _

_Yes, I would die for you, baby _

_But you won't do the same_

* * *

A few days had passed and Jazz was still opposite of his usual cheery self. He walked into the rec. room and went to the Energon dispenser for his usual. He sat in the corner, the daily routine re-playing itself.

Jazz's visor watched over the various mechs in the room. The Twins were playing a racing game on the transformer sized television and a crowd joined around them to see who won. Tearing his gaze off, he located Trailbreaker reading over a datapad with Brawn beside him doing the same. Red Alert was with Inferno, denying Inferno of his questions.

Jazz shook his head, a small smile beginning to form on his lip components. Of all the crazy couples on the base, Red Alert and Inferno _had_ to be it.

The master of paranoia and the front liner of fire were made for each other. Though their differences were mostly seen as flaws by the others, Red's constant bickering towards Inferno was often seen out of spite for his lover's safety. Inferno was a front liner, constant fire blasts and punches, and constantly walking through fires for others. The scene that Jazz saw before him was no surprise. In the end, the two _were_ made for each other.

There were other bondmates on the Ark that seemed "not it" for each other, but that was another story for another time. Many stories, many comparisons, and many dear comrades fit in with the night time stories, and this time was not it; not when Prowl and Smokescreen entered together, side-by-side, talking, laughing, something that cracked Jazz's spark more than necessary.

* * *

_If my body was on fire _

_You would watch me burn down in flames _

_You said you loved me, you're a liar _

_'Cause you never, ever, ever did baby_

* * *

Jazz watched the couple enter. Though if the two Praxians were a couple, that had yet to be discovered by the Terrible Two (the only gossipers that couldn't keep a secret on the Ark). Jazz dipped his head to look at the empty Energon cube on the table. His scanners told him that Smokescreen headed off to the Energon dispenser while Prowl spied his dipped helm. _...Slag..._

There was no escape. Jazz couldn't get up and move without causing suspicion to enter the tactician's processor; no doubt it was already there. Jazz couldn't egg it on any more and he couldn't make it out of this alive without talking to his crushed crush.

Jazz kept his thoughts and emotions in place, making sure they didn't escape him while he kept his appearance calm and collected. The allusion would prove to Prowl that he was merely thinking-which was true-and not avoiding him purposefully. With each thought that passed through Jazz's processor, the steady steps of Prowl eased towards him and finally came to a stop at his position.

"Jazz," His voice asked. It was soft, serious, and determined; searching for something.

"Oh, hey Prowler. Whatcha been up ta?" Jazz internally winced at the way his question came out. _It couldn't be anymore vulnerable?_

"You've been avoiding me; why?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Ah haven't been avoidin' ya. Why do ya think tha'?" Jazz began to stand up to see Prowl optic to optic.

"Yes, you have. You are always the first to leave at officer meetings, you no longer stop by my office for a friendly conversation like you would normally do, when we pass in the halls you say a quick "Hi" or a nod and then you're gone. All I want to know is why?" Prowl's optics grew soft and pleaded for an answer that Jazz could not and would not give away. Not when Prowl was in a relationship with Smokescreen.

Jazz sighed. "It's complicated. It's also kinda personal."

"Jazz, you know that you can tell me anything. What's going on?"

"Nothin'."

"It's something. You've been...depressed around base. If _ Sunstreaker_ of all 'Bots, is worried about you then it's something. I asked Blaster and _he_ didn't even know what was bothering you. I can't help you if you won't tell me."

"Ah'm not depressed. Like Ah said, it's personal and I don' want your help. It's nothin' you can help with." Jazz narrowed his optics to inflict how serious he was. Obviously his message didn't get through to the SIC

Prowl pulled back. His optics widened at what he just heard: Jazz didn't want...his help.

"Jazz-"

"_Jus' leave it, Prowl!_" Jazz was beginning to grow impatient. His voice was low, dangerous.

"I AM NOT JUST GOING TO LEAVE IT, JAZZ!" Prowl yelled. The room grew quiet at the SIC's voice of authority. "YOU KNOW DAMN WELL THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU AND I INTEND TO FIND OUT! IF YOU TRUST ME, THEN TELL ME YOU SLAGGER!"

The rooms occupancy grew quiet and Prowl was ready to yell again if need be. His servos were folded into a fist down by his waist, stiffly hovering by his black pelvic plating.

"PROWL, AH DON' WANT YOUR HELP! IF YOU'RE _MEH_ FRIEND, YA'D DROP IT AND LEAVE FOR MEH TA DEAL WITH! IF _YOU_ TRUST _ME_, YOU'LL SHUT THE HELL UP 'BOUT IT!" With that, Jazz threw out his cube and walked out. Jazz kept walking despite the fact that he felt a tear of coolant slide down his cheek seem, tracing the delicate frame work of the metal.

* * *

_But, darling I'd still catch a grenade for you _

_Throw my hand on the blade for you _

_I'd jump in front of a train for you _

_You know I'd do anything for you_

* * *

Jazz continued to walk down the hallway and entered his quarters and stood at the door that slid behind him. Irritation spiked through his circuits; he knew Prowl cared about his well-being, but that was only because he was his friend. Nothing more and nothing less. He knew that Prowl wanted to know and he could tell that the SIC pulled rank on him, but that didn't give Prowl the right to dig into his personal life. He and Prowl had been friends for eons, since they were in the academy, before they joined up on the Autobot forces. Prowl knew that Jazz would tell all eventually, and eventually wasn't going to happen at this time.

"Why would he pry inta my life now? I can handle mehself..." Jazz asked to the vacant room. His irritation soon boiled up to anger as it soon boiled up to its zenith.

Stomping his pede on the floor, Jazz walked over to the berth side table and looked at the picture beside it. "He knows nothin'! Ah don' need his help...Ah can handle mehself! Jus' me, mehself, and I!"

Picking up the small picture, Jazz removed it from its spot and threw it against the wall, shattering the glass that protected the main piece within. "At least Ah don' have ta worry 'bout workin' with tha fucker."

* * *

_I would go through all this pain _

_Take a bullet straight through my brain _

_Yes I would die for you baby _

_But you won't do the same_

* * *

Like before, for the next few joor that lead into the next breem, Jazz continued ignoring Prowl of his efforts to crack him. He continued to avoid him, but the case wasn't as before. No optic contact, no acknowledgements of each others presence and no words exchanged. It was as if the two never met each other. The crew began to grow concerned and so did their friends. No clues were handed out to be found in other words, the dense atmosphere surrounded by hatred never lifted.

::Jazz, report to my office. I've got matters of the upcoming infiltration mission including the Decepticons::

::Yes, sir:: Jazz replied to Prime and headed off to Prime's office.

* * *

_No, you won't do the same _

_You wouldn't do the same _

_Ooh, you'd never do the same _

_Oh, no no no_

* * *

Jazz knocked on the door. The door slid open to reveal Optimus sitting at his desk: his servos folded neatly with each other atop his desk and his optics staring up at his visor with an expecting glance. Datapads were neatly stacked into two piles: have read and to read. A simple picture of Elita One sat innocently next to the small plaque at the edge of the desk indicating who he was.

"Jazz,"

"Sir," Jazz acknowledged his superior.

Jazz walked in towards one the other chairs that was not occupied. Taking a glance out of his peripherals, Jazz saw just _who_ his partner was. The doorwings propped up to their regular elegant 'V' position. His black and mostly white frame stiffened when he heard the door open. The crimson chevron staring back at the Prime along with his stiffened frame. _Great, I'm working with him._

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The song used is _Grenade _by 'Bruno Mars'


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Here's the fifth chapter. Honestly, it might seem a little slow so...I hope you like it.

Title: Stereo Hearts

Summary: Jazz loves Prowl and Prowl loves Jazz...but what problems will arise when they keep their secrets in the dark.

**Warning: There's some Cybertronian cursing and our cursing too. Suggestive hints of sexual themes throughout the chapter (M/M). I think that is it for this chapter. Until then, please read, enjoy, and comment!

* * *

_I hung up the phone tonight _

_Something happened for the first time _

_Deep inside _

_It was a rush, what a rush_

* * *

One...two...three...then four. He guzzled down four of the poisonous drinks. The Twins High-Grade that plagued the processor and killed the cogs so they didn't work or even think properly. The optics wrought out the pure pictures of the scene and blurred it into nothing. The pedes had a mind of their own while they stumbled aimlessly in a lost direction. The voice box; what a _menacing_ little creature. Aligning itself with the intoxicating lies that the processor conjured up. Actions turn into a sin of blood that you reap from the ones you love. The blood of Jazz staining his hands and mouth, the trust gone. In its place stood the disgusting and tasteless transfluid of Smokescreen and the bittersweet love that he had received from the other Praxian. _How could I?_

Prowl housed the sinister and insidious liquid that brought fuzziness to his processor as he talked with Smokescreen; receiving more of the High-Grades and continuing to push the feeling of fuzz away. The inner war of logic and foreboding sanity fought before he danced with his love. Before he fell and before he escaped with the diversionist. _How could I?_

After he fell, Jazz brought the giggling Prowl back over to Smokescreen where a smile was placed upon his lips. His smile was pleasant, almost as if he was studying something. The sight was blurry and hard to distinguish from the colors that blended with everything else. The music pounded against his auditory systems and all Prowl could do was giggle.

"Hey, Smokieeee..." Prowl giggled in Jazz's grip.

Jazz drew in a breath. "Hey, Smokey. Can ya watch after Prowl? Make sure he's a...well...not getting inta too much trouble?"

Smokescreen's grin grew wider and Prowl ginned back. He found the whole situation so amusing. "Sure, Jazz. Prowl won't leave my sights."

Jazz brought Prowl over to the chair beside Smokescreen where he was sitting before he danced off the extra energy. Jazz squeezed Prowl's shoulder for reassurance and to calm down before he spoke again. "Thanks; Ah'm gonna go grab 'im a Low-Grade and Ah'll give it to 'im ta cancel out tha High-Grade."

He watched Jazz go to the table and his blurry and dimming optics glanced at Smokescreen. The blue armor shimmered under the lights. The bright canary yellow chevron contrasted with the blues and reds, making the frame even more lust provoking. Without any warning given to his movements, Prowl reached out and drizzled his touch across the other mech's forearms. The whisper of a touch echoing across the metal. Prowl's fingertips left the unnerving and lustful sensation upon Smokescreen, gaining that of the others attention.

Smokescreen peered back, that same smile plastered across his lip components again. The sight was beautiful at the given moment. Prowl was different and he found it in a good way. He's always wanted to have the SIC for his own, and now was his chance. _Should I take it? _Smokescreen decided yes.

Prowl's thoughts got tangled with eachother as he felt himself being dragged out of the seat and out the door. Prowl's pedes struggled to keep up to the new found speed. In human terms,'the butterflies fluttered in his abdominal plating', making the excitement even more enjoyable. Prowl wanted to experience the journey, know the adventure, have fun with the one free time that he couldn't control himself. There was no harm in it, and no price would have to be paid, right?

Prowl's processor was in knots. He couldn't think straight and his logic was growing fuzzier with each passing moment. It was as if his sanity was disappearing with every step he took. Smokescreen was like the psych ward that the humans referred to. Only the ironic part was that Smokescreen was leading him to craziness rather than taking him _away_ from it.

The floor beneath him seemed to disappear as he found himself being cradled against strong arms. Blue contrasted against white and black; the color mixing into a beautiful prodigy of warmth from their armor. Prowl giggled and he looked up into a grinning Smokescreen. The scheming blue optics of the other peered back. Prowl was unaware of the watching optics from behind the cornered wall when Smokescreen dipped down to caress his intoxicated lips. The poison settling between the two and that was when all logic defied his thinking; it seemed to despise the attention that the body was achieving.

There was no passion or even love that Prowl had groggily detected, it was lust, determination, and...want; maybe a hint of longing. The feeling was something that Prowl had wanted before but not now, the feeling was neutral and Prowl wanted no part of it. The taste was a mixture between the genuine taste of Smokescreen and High-Grade. Thinking was a will that was turned off; actions had a mind of their own as Prowl found himself wanting more.

Slightly, Prowl traced his poisoned glossa over the sleek lower lip of the diversionist. The caress was an embrace that of the utmost gentle love and care. It was all characteristics that were present in lovers...and used for faulty one-night stands by others. It seemed that this was it, but no matter, Prowl wished to be apart of it. He continued to tease the messaging lower lip of the other and eventually coaxed it to open up for instant access. There was no time that was put to waste as the teasing glossa entered and ventured out the cavern; mapping out the very contents. Smokescreen's glossa played into the action, wrestling the other for dominance and finally forcing its way into the other. The same actions were played along and soon the fun had brought on a new feeling that had wanted to be explored by the two.

When the heat and pressure were removed from his lips, Prowl found himself being dragged into an unfamiliar room. The strong arms that embraced him coaxed him to enter. Prowl wanted to deny the offer and gain some sanity but logic wasn't on his side and unfortunately, he complied with the movements that his body were making. The actions were mindless and counted on Smokescreen to make the decisions for them. Prowl wandered in happily, confused, and dazed. He was giggling, finding it near impossible to hold back the little gasps of pleasure from the others groping. It wasn't until then that the door closed, Prowl found himself shoved up against a wall, smiling from his own stupidity, and having his imagination run wild for the night. He giggled again before he let the other take him. Everything was a blur from then on and memories were rattled into nothing.

* * *

_'Cause the possibility _

_That you would ever feel the same way about me _

_It's just too much _

_Just too much_

* * *

The room was quiet and the only sound that emanated from the room was the gentle thrumming of the two engines; cooling down after last night. There were occasional tosses and turns but it usually only came out of Prowl, who was wrapped up in Smokescreen's embrace.

The smell of transfluid and more High-Grade perfumed the room. The taste of both lingering on the groggy mouths of the recharging Praxians. In spite of the fact that Prowl liked Smokescreen but soon had given up to pursue Jazz, Prowl had thought that he had had good evening. Despite the reasons behind them and doing the best he could to push away the dawning feeling that whoever saw, was hurt.

The thought provoking scenario of whoever that may be either liked Prowl or knew that he liked Jazz and would tell. Either way, consequences were going to be thrown at him, mainly personal problems and trust issues. Prowl didn't even want to think of what might happen with Jazz.

This problem was an optic-opener for Prowl...literally. Though Prowl's dimmed optics retracted from their recharge, didn't mean that he was fully aware of what had happened. His processor knew but reality hadn't fully caught up to Prowl. Only keeping the body in the dark and wait for the horrible news to arrive; then the aching truth would reveal itself and the swelling memories to be shown.

Light from the window had seeped through the closed blinds and soon filling the room with its buttery warmth and color. The room wasn't as dark as Prowl had hoped but only seemed to make the pain more durable to the optic. Blinking a bit and finally giving up with an unchangeable fact of nature, Prowl shielded his optics with his servo. Prowl shuttered his optics tightly to alleviate the sun and its overbearing brightness. Looking at his chronometer, Prowl saw that he had awoken before his internal alarm went off. It was a matter of time before- **BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP**!

Prowl winced at the loud noise that rang throughout his processor. Instinctively, he covered his auditory sensors only to no prevail. The noise was unbearable and soon went off. The ring still rang throughout his CPU and stayed there; it was a doorbell that never stopped ringing. A few klicks later, the ringing ceased and the deafening numb feeling took over. Of course he was making a bigger deal about it than it really was; but the fact that it was loud still remained.

::Prowl,::

Said mech winced at the volume of his Prime. Another loud ringing echoed through his processor. _He had to be _that_ loud?_

::Sir,::

::There's an officer meeting this afternoon. Please be present::

::Yes, sir:: Prowl moaned back. He wrapped his arm around his helm again and did his best to drown out the ringing from his comm. link.

A few nanoklicks after his steady breathing and seeing that the ringing was dying down, Prowl finally removed his servo from his helm. His optics adjusted to the light and he was able to see through a clear lense. He was greeted with an overwhelming sensation of confusion and hysterics. Where were the datapads, the paperwork, the pictures, the desk. Where was the furniture that adorned his living area, the golds and deep oranges that colored the walls and curtains. Beside him on the berth side table wasn't what he would normally leave there the picture of Jazz. Prowl looked above him and the ceiling was off; his painting of the Praxian constellation was not above. Prowl blinked a few times and thought he was dreaming. He figured he'd uncover his groggy mystery; for now, he wanted to catch some extra sleep before he got up for the orn.

Prowl rolled over to the side and came face to face with a sleeping form. The lips were parted in a breathing manner; not that they needed to breathe anyway. The optics were shuttered and all that was heard was the gentle thrumming of Smokescreen's engine and the panicky breaths of Prowl himself. He now felt the strong arms of the other Praxian holding him close to his chassis; as if making sure he didn't get up and walk away. When Prowl shifted, the arms retracted almost constricting.

_What did I do?_

* * *

_Why do I keep running from the truth?_

_All I ever think about is you _

_You got me hypnotized _

_So mesmerized _

_And I've just got to know_

* * *

Everything was a blur of panic to Prowl now. He recalled all the images that swept through his processor. He and Smokescreen...they...while..._oh Primus! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!_

Panicky breaths escaped Prowl's mouth as he began to stir on the too crowded berth. He was able to pry himself out of the cement embrace and soon stood up and started to pace. Prowl soon was greeted more symptoms he was not aware of: his legs were shaking from the pain from last night and his interfacing panel was clicked out of place. Prowl felt embarrassed and quickly covered his sore spike and valve. Prowl would have to ask Smokescreen later on how many sore rounds they had gone through and just what exactly he had done. _Of course I wouldn't _have_ to ask if I wasn't so damn stupid as to commit the act!_

Prowl stopped pacing and dropped his helm in his shaky hands and shook them violently. The phrase '_what_ _have I done?_' began to redundantly play through his mind. His legs began to shake with the weight settling on top of his sore pedes that attached between the sore hot spot: the valve and spike.

The atmosphere that surrounded him was beginning to get stuffy as he started to pace again. His pedes scraped the floor gently with each agonizing step. His valve ached and the movement only seemed to make it worse. The dull taste of transfluid mixed with the new oxygen in his mouth, started to combine with the aftertaste of the nauseating High-Grade. He'd have to have Ratchet check him; which he was not looking forward to.

Prowl pulled himself together and tried to think logically, trying to decipher ways to fix this. But what was done could not be fixed easily. What will the crew think? What will Optimus think? What will _Jazz_ think? The name brought great pain to his spark. How could he do this to Jazz of all 'Bots? Prowl disgusted himself. What SIC interfaced with a crew member and ditched? "Not me,"

* * *

_Do you ever think _

_When you're all alone _

_All that we could be?_

_Where this thing could go?_

_Am I crazy or falling in love?_

_Is it real or just another crush?_

* * *

Prowl was determined to face the consequences that came his way. Whether he lost his reputation as a responsible and respected mech or his trust with Jazz, he'd take it. After all, this was his fight. The consequences were dealt and like that when he'd deal out the punishment for the Twins, Primus had deemed it his time to receive the final blow of the future.

Prowl continued to pace across the room, drawing Smokescreen out of recharge. The other Praxian watched Prowl as he paced his quarters; something was on his mind and it was degrading his mind with ease. Though Smokescreen could tell that Prowl was in a mind-set where percentages and plans were being compared and contrasted; he didn't know that those plans were corrupted by feelings and guilt.

"Prowl," Smokescreen spoke up. His voice was a bit rough but it was heard no matter.

Prowl stopped. He grew tense and his doorwings stiffly strode up to their elegant 'V'. He turned his helm around and looked at the groggy diversionist. Prowl's optics were dimmed and if he were human, bags would be hanging tiredly beneath. Smokescreen could easily see that guilt plagued Prowl's mind and his movements were plagued by pain. Smokescreen would admit that he played it rough last night with Prowl and truthfully regretted nothing.

"Y-Yes?" Prowl's voice was even filled with the guilt and pain. His usually low and stoic voice cracked, it was weak with the tiring voice of stress and a mind filled processor ache.

"What's crawled up your tailpipe?" Smokescreen asked; his voice scratchy of morning impatience. Though Smokescreen hadn't referred to Prowl's answer, but to his mere current actions.

"Nothing has crawled up my tailpipe, Smokescreen!" Prowl's voice was suddenly full of authority and his face was stoic; as usual. "I am merely comparing many possibilities on what will happen after last night! What the hell was I thinking? What the hell were _you_ thinking? Taking advantage of a commanding officer while he's drunk?" Prowl shrieked; his voice cracking again.

Smokescreen stood up at Prowl's shriek. He was not going to get yelled at for what Prowl did. "Oh, no. Don't you try and pin this on me; you were the one that sent me the signal, you led me on. I thought you were okay with it!"

Prowl looked back at him. He was stunned. "...What have I done?..." He whispered beneath his breath and to himself as he started pacing again.

* * *

_Do you catch a breath _

_When I look at you?_

_Are you holding back _

_Like the way I do?_

_'Cause I'm trying, trying to walk away _

_But I know this crush ain't going away _

_Going away_

* * *

Prowl was still in shock about what he had done, but now was not the time to worry about it. He had an officer meeting to go to and believe it or not, his hangover was settling in again. The sluggish effects of his processor was lulling itself back to recharge through the lack of usage. His pedes scraped across the floor like they had in Smokescreen's quarters.

Prowl limped down the hall, some paid attention and others were too groggy to see what plagued the SIC's graceful movement. The grotesque truth behind his limping was the simple fact that he had been interfacing and to some, they found it amusing. For someone like Prowl to always watch his back, check his Energon, and responsible to his body, was interfacing from a simple drunk show. How embarrassing.

Before leaving for the meeting this afternoon, Prowl had told Smokescreen that he was sorry for the inconvenience of last night. He was under the influence of drinking and that he was acting upon an old crush and that it was hypocritical for him to commit such a heinous act. Thankfully Smokescreen complied and they split for the orn, coming to terms on Energon tonight. A friendly conversation and nothing more.

Prowl made his way closer and closer to the meeting point. He came to terms with himself and was still at a degrading personal war on how to approach Jazz. He didn't want to hurt Jazz with the truth and he didn't want to lie to his friend and love either. His battle computer was constantly comparing percents with eachother and the chances of which would cause less pain. He had to admit; the outcomes of his options weren't good.

* * *

_Has it ever crossed your mind _

_When we're hanging, spending time, girl, are we just friends?_

_Is there more?_

_Is there more?_

* * *

Prowl entered the meeting room. He was possibly the last one to enter and the others seemed to be waiting; however, all they wanted to do was get out of there. With only Perceptor, Red Alert, and Jazz awake and fine; the rest of the team was griping and complaining that it was too early.

Prowl's facial features were no longer hidden behind the emotionless mask that he showed to everybot, but merely allowed his own emotions to play out like a scene. Irritation, disgust, and worry. Irritation because of himself; he didn't watch out for himself last night and if he had, he wouldn't be sitting in the right side chair, hung over, and wishing himself dead. Disgust digging its ugly claws into his helm and throat; clawing its way into Prowl's processor to lay seeds of guilt and remembrance of what he had painfully allowed. And worry, the washing sensation continuing with waves of what Jazz might think.

Prowl lifted his head up from the table and peered at the others: mostly irritation echoing off their faces. The only one that stood out was Jazz. The happy 'Bot hid his facials behind a mask of sadness, shock, and betrayal? Could Jazz feel betrayed after Prowl stood him up from the Low-Grade?

Prime cleared his throat and gathered the unwanted attention of the others. "Last nights events were...well...we all know the effects of it. But, we're not discussing how well one was in the berth last night," Prowl stiffened and winced internally. "We're here to discuss what Red Alert had picked up last night."

Prowl continued his stare to Optimus before Red stood up and began to speak with a matter-of-fact tone. "Last night while you all were...partying; I came across movement in one of the outside sectors: Sector I8 to be precise..."

Prowl zoned out; not really caring about what Red had to say but should. He knew that he should listen but simply refused. His mind wandered off to last night: he had had 1...no 2...3 maybe...wait 4 High-Grades? _What was I thinking? I should know better then to down the Twins High-Grades!_

Prowl shook his head and once again, the look of disgust crossing his face. He looked up to make it seem like he was paying attention and noticed that Red Alert had allowed his paranoid electric glitch to make its appearance on his red helm. "We must find out what they're planning so we don't get a surprise attack like two breem ago." He concluded.

"You're opinion has been noted. If Red states the truth, then we must find out what they are planning. A scouting and infiltrating mission will be taken place in the next few orns, possible next joor. Till then, be on the lookout and stay alert on Decepticon spies." Optimus said.

Prowl noticed everyone nodding and he too fell into the steady flow of agreement.

"Dismissed,"

* * *

_See it's a chance we've gotta take _

_'Cause I believe that we can make this into something that'll last _

_Last forever _

_Forever_

* * *

Prowl painfully stood up and tried to exit with his usual grace. He pushed in his chair and noticed Jazz leaving with an unusual silence. Prowl worried, did he do something wrong? Jazz was walking fast, at his usual brisk pace and by the speed that Prowl was walking, he wouldn't be able to reach the other black and white.

"Jazz," Prowl called, his voice a little scratchy but he tried desperately to help his friend.

Jazz seemed to hear him and turned around, his visor dim and lightened up to see Prowl walk slowly towards him. Prowl limped over to him, the steps growing more agonizing with the sore valve rubbing against his thighs. The added weight upon each pede was hard, and with each klick the pain grew.

"Yeah?"

"Jazz, you seem...off. Is there something wrong?"

Prowl saw the faint blink behind the visor and he heard his vents hitch. The hesitation was heard before the voice brightened up with a faux tone. "N-no, Prowler. Everythin's goin' fine. Wha' 'bout you? Ah missed ya las' nigh'; ya doin' okay?"

Jazz looked like he knew the answer. Was it Jazz he felt watching him last night? There was a chance however that it wasn't Jazz. Prowl hitched when Jazz asked the question, here was the internal conflict that arose within him: tell the truth and hurt him or be lied to and have a smaller chance at being hurt. Either one inflicted pain and Prowl certainly didn't want that for his love. Unfortunately for Prowl, he chose the lie that had coaxed his glossa.

"Smokescreen walked me to my quarters last night. I'm terribly sorry for not accepting the Energon that you went to recover for me last night." The reply was simple but stung even Prowl. The saboteur was made to lie about most of his secrets and was trained to detect them as well. There was no doubt that Jazz would dig up the truth sooner of later. Prowl hoped it would be later rather than sooner.

To Prowl's relief, he noticed that Jazz had complied and nodded tersely; no pain showing on his faceplates or even lit in his visor. "A'ight. Well, at least ya got a decent recharge las' nigh'. I gotta get goin' to meh next duty on the command deck. Maybe Ah'll catch ya around."

Prowl fought the urge to say 'no, I didn't get a decent sleep because I had an agonizing interface session', but kept his mouth shut and glossa held between his dentas. Prowl only nodded and watched as his friend walked away with a bowed head. The only problem was, his head stayed down and it worried the tactician. _My love is hurt because of...me._

* * *

_Do you ever think_

_When you're all alone _

_All that we could be?_

_Where this thing could go?_

_Am I crazy or falling in love?_

_Is it real or just another crush?_

* * *

It has been a few weeks since the incident and that was when Prowl had noticed a change in Jazz. His brightness, the beauty in his smile, his loving humor, were all gone. His new attitude was dull, grey and depressing. It was as if his own mood plagued the others and locked down the definition of fun in the crew. Party's were thrown every now and then and when Prowl went to examine the fundamentals of it, Jazz was nowhere to be found; he was no longer seen in the middle of the dance floor with the rest of the party goers. Even work was poorly done: patrols and commanding jobs were done to the smallest extent. No reports of a smile from Jazz were filed and the Ark's crew grew worried.

Prowl sat in his office and looked through the datapads that had been laid on his desk recently. He put down the duty roster that he had just completed and picked up the first datapad that he had touched. The title was containing medical information and a report on the patient. _By Primus..._

_Report 136B _

_::Patient- Jazz::_  
_::Reason for Examination- Commanding Officer Orders of Optimus Prime::_  
_::Symptoms- Fading armor, unusual quiet behavior, under energized. No sickness, paranoia, fright detected, or deceased bondmate::_  
_::Conclusion Made- Minor case of depression::_  
_::Examining Doctor- Ratchet (CMO of the Autobot Armies)::_

"Oh, Jazz..." Prowl whispered; his voice cracking.

* * *

_Do you catch a breath _

_When I look at you?_

_Are you holding back _

_Like the way I do?_

_'Cause I'm trying, trying to walk away _

_But I know this crush ain't going away _

_Going away_

* * *

Prowl shook his head as he set down the datapad. Shoving his helm into his servos, his elbows balancing everything on the desk. What was happening with Jazz? The poor spark was balancing professional work with personal life that was hidden well. Of course Jazz could tell his closest friends at any time: the Twins, Blaster, or even himself; however, Prowl found himself out of the fold when it came to closest friend. It was a gut feeling, and instinct that somehow he might be a key part to the situation.

Prowl looked to the side to find a beaming and lively of the very mech he loved. His visor was lit aglow brightly, as if ready to ward off the darkness that hid evil. His smile was just the thing that brought what humans called 'butterflies to the stomach'. The warmth that he gave off was incredible, the very thing that brought life to the SIC. _Everything I absolutely need is in Jazz, now I need it more than ever_. It pained him to see Jazz so upset to where he no longer even talked.

But only to find out the traces of why Jazz's depression affected his mood so deeply, Prowl might have to ask his closest friends what Jazz might've talked about with them. Blaster and the Twins no doubt might have some information, and unfortunately Prowl might have to pull rank and make it his business as to find out. Haven in his office didn't seem to affect his mood as a faint knocking rattled the door. Prowl sent the command for the door to slide to the side and allow entrance.

Prowl erected his back and propped his drooped wings to a professional 'V'. His helm was held high with the his signature stoic mask covering all traces of emotion. His servos were placed on top of the desk, folded among eachother calmly, awaiting further commands.

Once entrance was granted, two 'Bots of red and yellow stepped through. Black audial fins stood at a shorter height than polished yellow helm fins. Equal hooding covered their chest plating, the colors differentiating their frames. Equal footing synchronized with eachother as both entered. The Twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, shared faceplates of concern; a grim frown colored their lip components.

Both stopped in front of Prowl's desk; Sunstreaker crossed his servos over his bright yellow chassis that was waxed to a fine shine. His right leg was propped out as most of his mass balanced on his left. Sideswipe however was at a relaxed position with his servos dangling by his black pelvic plating. His face was watching, speculating Prowl and awaiting permission to speak. Sunstreaker beat him to it.

"Prowl, what the slag is wrong with Jazz?" It was a demand from the brash warrior. His blue optics were piercing Prowl's, wanting the answer to be announced here and now.

"I-I don't know..." Prowl replied honestly. He dropped his helm and his doorwings drooped faintly. "I received a medical report including Jazz. Ratchet thinks it is a minor case of depression."

"Depression?" Sideswipe asked. His servos were now playing idly with eachother in front of his chassis. He looked up from watching the small game of tag and glanced at Prowl; worry pleading for it not to be true in his optics.

"What the frag? How does the most outgoing 'Bot on base get depression?" Sunstreaker snapped. He propped up a servo in the air to exaggerate his statement. If anyone knew drama or an over-exaggerated outcome or complain, Sunstreaker was the one to put use to it.

"Sunstreaker, please try to understand that I intend to find out and help in any way possible. I will not inflict force but will try to do whatever I can." Prowl explained.

"Prowl, I trust you; but honestly, what can you do to help? This is my _friend_ and I don't want to see him hurt. **Do something about it!**"

"Sunny; yelling at Prowl won't help Jazz. It's not just you that cares about Jazz, bro." Sideswipe stepped in, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Whatever," Sunstreaker shrugged the hand off. "Either do something now, or don't do anything at all!" Sunstreaker smashed his fist into his palm. He turned on his heel with a scowl and stalked out of the office. Sideswipe stared after his brother, and soon looked back to Prowl with an apology written on his faceplates.

"I'm sorry; but I agree with Sunstreaker, please try and figure out what's wrong with Jazz. We're worried." Sideswipe admitted. He followed his brother's route out the door, leaving Prowl to the vacancy of his office.

"I will do my best to help Jazz; I promise."

* * *

_Why do I keep running from the truth?_

_All I ever think about is you _

_You got me hypnotized _

_So mesmerized _

_And I've just got to know_

* * *

Prowl walked down the corridor. Prowl passed by offices, storage units, and quarters. The hallway was clear, this hallway was never really busy anyway. Though, there were some events that happened where they were not needed: fights or even "quickies" as some called it. Just the simple thought of an interfacing session made Prowl shudder; mainly because of the great deal of pain that he not only caused to Jazz, but to himself and Smokescreen as well.

The corridor came to a stop and another hallway was bridged off into the communications wing; right where Prowl was going. He had emitted a plan to meet with Blaster about Jazz. Prowl had made a promise to the Twins, whether they knew or not, Prowl was keeping it. Jazz was more important than the saboteur had considered. His friends cared about him and when it was _Sunstreaker_ who was complaining, you knew that it was important.

_Primus, I hope Blaster can help me_. Prowl thought. His doorwings fell into a sloppy 'V', the professionalism gone. Blaster was Jazz's best friend; it was Blaster that Jazz told him his deepest secrets, thoughts, feelings. If Blaster didn't know, then what Jazz was going through was deeper than he let on.

The door slid open and inside sitting at the communications monitors was Blaster. Beats that belonged to an electric guitar, heavy drums, and keyboard all belonged to an alternative group. The lyrics portrayed the neutral feeling of belonging to ones self. The key word in the song: numb. Prowl would never be able to understand the meaning and reasons behind music.

"Blaster,"

"'Ey, Prowl!" Blaster greeted. His optics opened and he turned to see the SIC.

"Hello Blaster, can I ask you something that involves the subject of Jazz?" Prowl was blunt and got straight to the point. He noticed that Blaster had stiffened but assumed because it had to do with his best friend.

* * *

_Do you ever think _

_When your all alone _

_All that we could be,_

_Where this thing could go _

_Am I crazy or falling in love _

_Is this real or just another crush_

* * *

Blaster stiffened when he heard Jazz's name. He figured that this had something to do with Jazz's depression; but it wasn't depression: it was a love that would never be. It wasn't too long ago that Jazz had stopped by to tell his reasons. Blaster had been at a loss of words when he heard what Jazz had to stay.

Jazz saw Prowl kissing Smokescreen. Blaster knew from the very first glint in Jazz's visor that Jazz wished for Prowl. And to see your love kissing somebot else, it was spark breaking. He knew the feeling, though he was a bonded mech and it was a different situation. Of course Jazz knew who the mech was and what the situation called for. If Blaster trusted Jazz to keep his secret, then Jazz trusted Blaster to his.

"Y-yeah, Prowl. Shoot tha question."

Prowl nodded and hesitated before asking. His doorwings began to rise and fall in a synchronized pattern; the very pun of an inner conflict revolving around Jazz and the decision upon which questions to ask.

"Is Jazz alright? T-the Twins stopped by my office earlier and asked about Jazz's wellbeing. They were quite concerned and...I am too." Prowl admitted; his voice stuttering. He dipped his helm to hide the chagrin that began to color his white faceplates.

Blaster watched the very movement of Prowl. It wasn't common for Prowl to hide his face. He was embarrassed but what for? Was he ashamed of what he did and did he even know that Jazz saw him with Smokescreen?

"Jazz is doin' fine when Ah see 'im. Ah don' know 'bout anyone else. Why are ya embarrassed?" Blaster prodded.

"C-can you keep a secret?" Prowl asked hesitantly. His servos were molding into each other non stop out of nervousness. What was Prowl trying to get at?

"Yeah; wha' is it?"

Prowl opened his mouth but closed it after a while. He tried again but nothing came out. Sighing, Prowl shuttered his optics and breathed in; trying to clear his processor and influence his battle computer to wind down. He reopened them and began with a clear mind and true intentions that weren't plagued by a cowardly yellow stripe.

"I-I'm worried about Jazz and...I-I love him. I do wish to find out so I can help but I don't think he trusts me enough for that. I only ask because I care for his wellbeing. Am I apart of the reason of his depression?" Prowl asked. His whole confession was timid, something that didn't fall into the category of 'Prowl'.

Prowl quickly regained his composure and acted like he had said nothing. He cleared his vocal processor and asked the main question for which he was here for. "Has Jazz told you anything containing his recent behavior?"

"N-no Prowl. Jazz hasn't told meh anythin'. An' even if he did tell meh somethin', Ah don' think you're part o' tha problem." Blaster said; doing his best to cover his shaky tone. He didn't know how to respond to a secret like that either. He knew that Jazz loved Prowl but he didn't know vise versa until now.

"Blaster, are you positive?"

"Yes, sir." Blaster brought himself back together and nodded with ascent.

Prowl was uncertain about Blaster's answers. It had seemed that Blaster was hiding something; possibly the fact that Jazz did in _fact_ tell Blaster but asked for him to keep it hidden. Prowl wasn't going to pull rank on the communications officer but would appreciate it if information was transferred. However, it was private and to sink that low for a mere answer to a personal problem was shallow and for the weak. Prowl was better than that.

Prowl brushed the fact that he was lied to off. It was for a cause that he understood and would respect as such. Annoying as it sometime got, it wasn't his subject to pry upon. He would agree to the terms of the friend code if you will. He simply nodded and turned on his heel without further conversation.

Once Prowl was out of the communications wing, Blaster relaxed a bit but was stunned at what he had just learned. The one who had hurt his best friend turned out to love him in return. Why would Prowl, the SIC, do such a hypocritical thing? He often told others to keep a watch on them and to not hurt the ones you loved; was he lying?

Blaster kept his thoughts to himself and returned to what he was doing. As much as he wanted to comm. Jazz, he had promised Prowl that he wouldn t tell the secret that was shared. No matter how much it might hurt and alleviate the pain of Jazz, Blaster couldn't help because unfortunately, he had promised not to tell. It was between him and the SIC.

* * *

_Do you catch a breath_

_When I look at you,_

_Are you holding back _

_Like the way I do _

_Cause' I'm tryin, tryin to walk away,_

_But I know this crush aint' going _

_Away ya ya ya yaaa_

* * *

Prowl walked away from the communications wing and was going to seek out Jazz. He needed to talk to him and he was determined as to know why he was so upset. He prayed to Primus that he wasn't part of the reason; but no matter how hard he had tried to pray to alleviate the guilt, it was there. That gut feeling and the spark that wrenched within his chest plating every time he thought of Smokescreen, interfacing, or even Jazz (merely because he had hurt the love of his life).

Prowl's doorwings hung loosely from his back struts; he'd quickly perk them back up when his sensors picked up a presence. And speaking of presence...

"Prowl,"

When his designation was said, Prowl turned around to see the one who helped make his spark wrench in guilt. Smokescreen.

"Smokescreen, what can I do for you?"

"I...uh...I wanted to see if you wanted to go for Energon while I'm on my break: which is now." He chuckled awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck. Smokescreen's doorwings perked up in anticipation, hoping that Prowl would comply. His smile was hopeful and his optics were lit ablaze.

Prowl kept walking all the while getting closer to the rec. room. After all, Prowl was going for his own Energon but was mostly looking for Jazz. He figured that if he walked in with Smokescreen by his side, Jazz would get the wrong impression but if Smokescreen was headed there now, then it would make no difference. Prowl nodded to himself and turned his helm to the side to ascend. "Yes, I suppose so. I was heading to the rec. room now."

"Great! I-I mean thanks. I was kinda hoping you'd say yes." Smokescreen covered his aft with what he assumed was nonchalantly. Prowl dismissed the fact that Smokescreen's crush was being applied and listened further. "Oh, hey you've been upset lately, well that's what I hear anyway; are you okay?" Smokescreen asked, catching up to the left side of Prowl. Smokescreen's voice was steady and level but was overflowing with concern; the same concern Prowl shared when talking about his beloved Jazz.

Prowl's doorwings hitched up stiffly to the truth. He kept his face to the stoic and emotionless face as before and continued walking. He didn't want anyone to help him to overcome this. It was something that he had to face on his own.

"Yes, Smokescreen. Everything is fine; nothing to concern yourself over with." Prowl said, as honesty washed through his voice; most of what he said was true. However, he was 'not fine' as he put it; but was worried, stressed, and in love.

"O-okay I was just wondering. You just look kinda tired." Smokescreen admitted bluntly. One of the many qualities that Prowl had liked about Smokescreen was his honesty towards subjects. But Prowl had to admit, and rather rudely if he thought so himself, that Jazz coincided with Smokescreen's bluntness but performed it _much_ better.

"It happens I suppose." Prowl was growing uncomfortable with the subject circling around his wellbeing. Prowl never really liked talking about his feelings but rather what he thought. And this was something that _didn't_ involve that.

"How have your duties and training been going?" Prowl asked, changing the subject to avoid such pain. Even though most of the pain was bottled up and held firmly, the pain still leaked out its deadly fumes causing Prowl to sense the overwhelming feeling of guilt.

The plan to change the subject worked but the traces of confusion and that of suspicion was flecked within Smokescreen's voice. "Good. In fact, today I seemed to get a taste of how the 'Cons feel when they get tied up in my smoke. I got lost and ran straight into the side of the Ark."

Prowl couldn't help but laugh at the mishap. It happened all the time among the Ark's crew that plans backfired, but what was funny about this was that it was ironic. How often was it that the diversionist got caught in his own diversion? Smokescreen smiled but didn't laugh.

"I guess that is kinda funny." He chuckled to himself.

The pair reached the rec. room. The room wasn't full to its capacity but housed most of the mechs on the Ark. The twins were engaged in a video game with a group engaging themselves in watching the two grow impatient and competitive. In another area, Trailbreaker and Brawn were secluded into reading datapads on theories of Earth science no doubt. Not too far away were the bickering Red Alert and Inferno.

Prowl suddenly spied Jazz in a corner; his helm dipped over an empty cube. Here was his chance and he intended to take it. He motioned that he was going to go talk to Jazz and Smokescreen complied. Smokescreen stalked off to the Energon dispenser to grab two cubes for himself and Prowl, and then he'd meet up with the two. Prowl nodded and walked off to Jazz's position.

While walking, Jazz didn't move; he remained over the cube. Prowl suddenly got the complete and irrational fear of breaking down. Asking for forgiveness on whatever he had done wrong. He swallowed tightly, feeling the need to turn and run. Why was it suddenly so hard to ask Jazz what was wrong.

He could feel his pedes stumble along the flooring and he dreaded each step towards Jazz. He was scared...which was uncommon for Prowl. He worked to keep his servos down by his sides and keep them from mingling with eachother. His battle computer worked to get his questions in order so he could ask them right off the bat instead of hesitating. Of course the very fact of him fumbling along his questions was 85% likely not to happen and each time he thought about the percentages, the number dropped.

Pulling himself together, Prowl was one stride away from speaking with Jazz and that time was up as of now...

"Jazz," Prowl called calmly and trying to keep his emotions in check. He had to keep in mind that if he couldn't keep collected while talking to the love of his life, then he couldn't talk period. This was precisely why he was chosen for the job of second-in-command.

"Oh, hey Prowler. Whatcha been up ta?" Jazz greeted Prowl. His visor brightened at the same time to appear he was doing okay.

"You've been avoiding me; why?" _That wasn't one of the questions that I was going to ask. Great, now I sound pissed_.

"Ah haven't been avoidin' ya. Why do ya think tha'?" The saboteur stood up from his seat for a better view into Prowl's optics. It was a lot more comfortable for Prowl to look straight across to optic level then looking down; and Prowl assumed that it was comfortable for Jazz as well instead of looking up.

"Yes you have. You are always the first to leave at officer meetings, you no longer stop by my office for a friendly conversation like you would normally do, when we pass in the halls you say a quick "Hi" or a nod and then you're gone. All I want to know is why?" Prowl pointed out obvious situations that he could attest to. The obvious situations that Jazz indulged in and the obvious discomfort around Prowl. _So I do have something to do with it but just what exactly?_ Everything that he had listed off were things that concerned Prowl. Everything that made Jazz the most perfect 'Bot to be around and it was suddenly all lost. Why?

Prowl continued to look at Jazz, his optics pleading for an answer and praying to Primus that he could help. His wish was not granted but would have to be achieved for his own sake. Prowl watched as Jazz sighed, his shoulders drooping down as he fell silent in defeat. "It's complicated. It's also kinda personal."

At this point, all the barriers were gone and Prowl's emotions ran wild. "Jazz, you know that you can tell me anything. What's going on?"

"Nothin'."

"It's something. You've been depressed around base. If Sunstreaker is worried about you then it's something. I asked Blaster and _he_ didn't even know what was bothering you. I can't help you if you won't tell me." Prowl pleaded again. He watched as Jazz stiffened at the very ring of Blaster's name.

"Ah'm not depressed. Like Ah said, it's personal and Ah don' want your help. It's nothin' you can help with!" Jazz narrowed his optics which was a signal of just how serious he was. Prowl received it, he just didn't abide by it.

Jazz was silent for a minute and that was the perfect time for Jazz's words to sink into Prowl's processor. Jazz didn't want his help. _Jazz didn't want his help...at all!_

"Jazz-"

"_Jus' leave it, Prowl!_" Jazz's voice was now low and dangerous. Jazz was growing impatient and as luck would have it, so was Prowl. He tried to hold back the growl that was longing to be released.

"I AM NOT JUST GOING TO LEAVE IT, JAZZ! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL THAT SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH YOU AND I INTEND TO FIND OUT. IF YOU TRUST ME, THEN TELL ME YOU SLAGGER!" The room grew quiet and Prowl could feel just how awkward it was. Prowl's optics were narrowed into two slits and he began to shake; his servos fisted down by his black pelvic plating.

"PROWL, AH DON' WANT YOUR HELP! IF YOU'RE _MEH_ FRIEND, YA'D DROP IT AND LEAVE FOR MEH TA DEAL WITH! IF _YOU_ TRUST _ME_, YOU'LL SHUT THE HELL UP 'BOUT IT!" Jazz's fury was unleashed and he threw his Energon cube away-or more like shattered it with force in the recycling bin. Jazz stalked out and didn't bother to turn around to face Prowl again.

* * *

_Going away ya ya ya yaaa _

_Going away ya ya ya yaaa _

_All that we could be,_

_Where this thing could go _

_Going away ya ya ya yaaa_

* * *

Prowl couldn't believe what he had just done. He yelled at his best friend, his love. Prowl had thought for sure that his emotions were under check. What went wrong as to why the barriers that were checked constantly, breaking at a point that wouldn t cause such and uproar? _What's the matter with me?_

Smokescreen walked up to Prowl and held out a cube of Energon to Prowl while he nursed the other. He whistled a low tune that the humans did when something went down badly. "You handled that well, Prowl." Smokescreen found the comment amusing and he thought Prowl did to. Unfortunately to his dismay, Prowl did not.

Prowl shot Smokescreen a look of disgust. "Shut up, Smokescreen. I hope you are happy. This is what happens when you take advantage of a drunken commanding officer. Thanks to your blunder and mine too, my friendship with Jazz is gone. The love that I harbor for him is shattered. Thank you for your folly."

Prowl stalked out of the room and pushed past Smokescreen who stood stunned. Once again Prowl fought the raging emotions that played war with each other within him. Prowl placed the ever-so-famous stoic mask on and hurriedly wiped away the coolant that started to wash down his face. He couldn't afford to allow his already corrupted reputation to fall deeper and deeper into the chasm of chaos that housed it.

::Prowl, report to my office. I've got matters of the upcoming infiltration mission including the Decepticons::

::Yes, sir. I will be there in a few klicks, sir::

Within the few seconds that Prowl had promised to arrive, Prowl did. He waited for the office door to slide to an open and walked in to sit down in front of the Prime. The silence was a bit awkward, so Prowl set his sight to the desk in front of him. Two stacks of datapads and a picture Elita One adorned his desk. Optimus sat behind the desk with his servos folded over eachother. His facial expression was at ease and he waited patiently for Prowl's assigned partner he assumed.

The silence drew on and soon foot falls stopped in front of the office door. Optimus sent the command for the door to slide open and allow the mech in. Access was granted and the foot falls began to walk in. Optimus glanced up and acknowledged Prowl's assigned partner.

"Jazz,"

Prowl stiffened at the said name. His optics were wide and he could feel his mouth agape. The doorwings that stood along his back no longer twitched but stood petrified. Prowl's black and white frame stood erected in front of Prowl as the chair slid to the side to allow access to Jazz. Prowl couldn't believe this. Optimus was putting not only Prowl but Jazz through the Pit. Once the mission started, that was going to be the beginning of when all Hell would be let loose.

"Sir," Jazz's cool and calm voice allowed no emotion to seep through the cracks. His voice acknowledged Optimus but not Prowl. Not that Prowl cared because he certainly didn't blame him for not.

"Now that you two are here, we are to discuss infiltration plans." Prowl stood still and gulped. _Dear Primus, no..._

"Shall we begin?" Optimus asked, the smile evident in his tone.

* * *

A/N: The song used in this chapter is 'Crush' by _David Archuletta_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here it is...finally! I am really sorry for the wait. It turned out to be longer than I had anticipated. I really do hope that you enjoy it though.

Rating: M (rating will go up for reasons)

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any characters/suggestive themes surrounding it

**Warning: This is big. There is language in here: both current and Cybertronian cursing. Besides that, I do hope you enjoy the story that took me forever to write. Please read, enjoy, and comment :)

* * *

_Fall_

_Now the dark begins to rise_  
_Save your breath, it's far from over_

* * *

Jazz and Prowl sat as far from each other as possible without making it noticeable. Jazz sat on the far left of his chair while Prowl on the far right. Both kept to themselves and paid Optimus their respective attention. Optimus sighed at the format but pretended nonetheless to not notice their behavior.

"The Decepticons have been monitoring our movements. Laserbeak was spotted earlier today over the shooting range and Buzzsaw in the rec. room's rafters. Both under orders of spying and tracking us. Plans have been made for infiltration and to compromise their information and plans."

Jazz listened to his Prime but all the while thoughts raging within him wave after wave. Just why exactly was he working with Prowl? He was head of Special Ops. which meant that he could handle both infiltration and was able to retrieve the information needed. Jazz knew that the seeds of hatred were planted due to the fact that he and Prowl just got into it in the rec. room. So if Prime knew that Jazz could handle the mission and its tasks easily, why was Prowl tagging along.

"Jazz, I'm pairing you up with Prowl because battle strategies may be required. I know that you are fully capable of accomplishing this, but quick thinking may be needed; and I am not saying that you don't have a quick processor. Primus already knows you do." He mumbled beneath his breath. "If the Decepticons are preparing for something big which requires them to monitor our faction, then heavy security will be initiated."

Jazz nodded tersely though he still wasn't happy about the pairing. Prowl on the other hand, worried about the pairing and the hatred that would sprout between them. Why be paired with somebot who hated him and somebot who...refused his love _and_ friendship. That was the reason why Jazz had the disgusted scowl on his faceplates and that was the reason why Prowl didn't want to be on the mission with Jazz.

"Your mission will start in exactly one vorn. Blaster will set up long range communications so we can remain in contact and Ratchet will strengthen your firewalls so no viruses will infect your systems."

"Yes, sir," Both replied. The synchronized answer was looked upon as sickening. Such may be tolerated but not by big amounts. Their patience with eachother dwindled and their friendship that had lasted for eons began to deplete into nothing. In a matter of time it would all be gone.

"Good luck. Dismissed," Optimus waved off the two and began to look upon the datapads that needed to be read over. Optimus looked down and began to ignore the two and simply filled his thoughts of hope and determination. Optimus knew about Jazz, after all he _was_ the one to send him to Ratchet. Optimus also knew about Prowl and the change in his physical traits that everyone knew and grew accustomed to. His doorwings weren't hiked up to its usual extent. His emotions were often easy to read upon his faceplates: the concern and guilt printed all over. Now a new emotion wiped out the two, one that only Optimus ever saw when a battle went wrong was anger. Prowl tried to hide it, but Optimus knew. He saw.

The hope that Optimus felt was the hope that the two would reunite; nobot ever saw them with eachother anymore, their friendship was gone. As far as he knew, they wouldn't even look at eachother let alone talk to one another. The hope that he also felt was also pointed towards the fact that maybe the mission would be successful and determination entered there as well. Optimus didn't tell the two that the area they were being directed to was risky. He did so for a reason: personal reasons for his SIC and TIC for that matter. With the risk threatening, they would watch out for eachother and maybe find trust again. Trust for their former relationship to grow again and trust for that of themselves and peace of mind. Maybe the relationship would be stronger than before.

Determination was well centered into the mixture of emotions too. He was determined for the two to reunite and for the mission to go well. As far as their safety was concerned, it might get iffy. Optimus didn't have any trouble admitting the fact that it was an iffy situation and if they came back unwounded, it would be out of the work of Primus himself. The foremost key feelings that Optimus had raging within balanced eachother out: hope equaling determination and vise versa.

"Jazz, Prowl, before you go," Optimus called out again and gained their attention as both turned around. They both tersely glanced at eachother then back to their Prime.

"This mission requires trust in eachother and the ability to work together. No trust equals no safety. I know that the two of you have not been on good terms as of late, but this will not work if you ignore eachother and have too much confidence in one's self." Optimus's glance was cast at Jazz. Luckily Jazz didn't catch it as he thought it was a balance of glances between the two.

"Yes, sir." Prowl said, bowing his head as his doorwings hiked up higher, setting strain on his joints. Jazz didn't respond but only with a simple nod much like Prowl.

"Dismissed,"

* * *

_Leave the lost and dead behind  
Now's your chance to run for cover_

* * *

As soon as the door slid behind the two, each cast a final glance at eachother to acknowledge one's presence than departed to their respective areas to gather useful items. Prowl went to his office then to his quarters for datapads and information drives: their use to make notes of blueprints of the mission and to gather information. Jazz went to his quarters for his portable infiltration kit. He made good use of it too when needed; the kit included a small datapad specially made for guidance through systems, a cloaking chip that allowed you to scan the files without being detected, wires and links for other devices, and extra information drives. Jazz had no doubt that Prowl wouldn't bring spares, but it was always good just in case.

Soon after both 'Bots had gathered their belongings, both headed to the rec. room. Prowl's intentions for first aid use and to re-energize before heading out; Jazz's intentions just to re-energize. Jazz was already quite a bouncy mech and enough energy pulsed through his Energon lines and circuits as it is. Often at times Hound told him he was a camel: he could store a little amount of Energon and still last for a week. Jazz only laughed it off as good humor and went on his merry way.

Unfortunately for Jazz, when he walked in, he saw Prowl. The second-in-command had three extra cubes of Energon for emergencies; subspacing them for later when needed. Jazz stopped and shuttered his optics. He breathed in and he breathed out. He ignored the sounds of the other mechs around him, relinquishing them as a blur in time. He only focused in on the sounds of his engine, running hard with anticipation. He focused on the beat of his spark, the lulling sound of how it should feel always: calm, collected, in a loving state. Unfortunately, his spark was beating with worry, fear, and a fair course of irritation or hatred towards Prowl. _No, I won't think of it. He's not worth it_.

* * *

_Leave the lost and dead behind  
Now's your chance to run for cover_

* * *

Prowl reached up to grab a third and final cube for their mission. The feeling of wanting to protect themselves on the mission was an overbearing feeling. Prowl couldn't bring himself to not gather the necessities that might not be of use, when the gut feeling of they would was over powering. His doorwings hiked up a bit with a stressful groan of anxiety. It was redundant, yes, but was it true? _Maybe not_. Prowl felt that Jazz and he were going to encounter some hardships and pain. But, another possibility was the fact that guilt played tricks on his battle computer; triggering the feeling to protect his one and only Jazz. Wait…_his_ Jazz? That couldn't be right, Jazz hated him and there was no hope.

Prowl recovered his cube and set it on the counter. He leaned against the counter with his servos and shuttered his optics. Prowl longed to get lost in his thoughts, to endure the quiet nature of his logic and think his personal problem through. He focused on the thrum of the life around him, unaware of the stares that landed on his back; the Twins among them. Prowl ignored them and drowned them out, pretending that they didn't exist, that he wasn't the SIC over the _whole_ Autobot army, that he wasn't on Earth,…that he wasn't _indeed_ in love with Jazz. Prowl pushed it all away, all the conflicts, all the emotion.

Prowl focused on the depressed thrum of his spark, the thoughts of nothing brightening it to a healthy beat. As long as nothing was on his processor, his spark was healthy and happy, but when it was plagued by problems that seemed to have no resolution…it was the Pit.

Prowl opened his optics and breathed a sigh; not of relief, but of another orn to endure. He lifted the empty Energon cube to the dispenser and filled it with fuel that might come in handy. Reaching up for another cube for his own use, Prowl filled that one up and began to nurse the sweet tasting liquid.

Turning around, Prowl jumped back a bit to avoid head-butting Jazz. The bright pink Energon sloshed about in the cube and over the sides, spitting up on Prowl's pristine white frame. He looked down and he shook his helm and stared apologetically; not that Jazz would care. "M-my apologies."

"No problem." Jazz replied half-heartedley. Prowl moved out of Jazz's way and went to get a rag and clean the front of his frame. Prowl next went to his office to tidy up the already organized and clean office before they left for their mission. He wanted it to be just as he left it: overly cleaned, overly organized, and comfortable to his standards. Just as Prowl finished re-organizing datapads and his desk utensils, it was time to leave. He hurried out of the door and went to meet his partner at the entrance silently.

* * *

_Light the fuse and burn it up  
Take the path that leads to nowhere_

* * *

The wind whisping over their canopies was the only sound between Prowl and Jazz. They drove in silence, focused on their work and focused on their thoughts; keeping them in the dark from one another. They ignored the other life that manifested around them, ignored the dust and dirt that caught in their tires and undercarriage, and they ignored each other. It was usually the same on every other mission with every other 'Bot: talking was only required when speaking of plans due to extreme focus. However, this was taken to the extent. The two ignored eachother completely and only assumed the plans that were to be made.

The engines kicked up in speed as they reached their fifth mile. The deep roar of the Datsun had taken the lead but soon came side to side with the Martini Porsche. Together, their engines synchronized into harmony that intertwined their inward emotion with machinery. The only sounds that boomed over the dusty desert and into the powerful sheltering of the woods were the equally powerful Autobot engines, the breeze that was kicked up and washed over the canopies, the graceful variety of birds, and…radio?

An alternative rock song was playing at a reasonable volume to Jazz and drifting through the air; Prowl on the other hand had found it obnoxious and loud. Mind you that Prowl was not somebot to enjoy the life pleasing tunes of music, but merely secluded in the peaceful bliss of silence in his own company.

Prowl sighed after enduring the blasted music for so long. His semi-pleasant tone seeped through and hid his growing irritation. "Jazz, could you please lower the volume?"

"Why?" Jazz spat back. It wasn't uncommon to get into a small spat with the TIC or Blaster about music. Both loved music and both wouldn't turn it off without a valid answer. Their stubborn personalities was the best quality in the mechs, but it was also the worst at times.

"Missions require stealth, which music does _not_ help with."

"Ah'm all about stealth; tha's why Ah'm head of Special Ops. Meh music ain't hurtin' nothin' Prowl." Jazz countered.

"Your slagging music will not help either if we run into Decepticons. Lower the volume, Jazz!" Prowl snapped. To say that Prowl wasn't in the mood was an understatement. He struggled to keep his irritation under control, and Jazz's smart-aft attitude wasn't helping.

"Prowl, why are ya so pessimistic? If we do run inta tha 'Con's, we can take 'em. We also have back up, tha's why we have Blaster." Jazz answered matter-of-factly, almost smug.

"I never said that we couldn't Jazz. I know good and well that we can take them and that Blaster is on top of things. Why are _you_ questioning my logic?"

"Ah'm not questionin' ya. Stop pullin' rank and pull your head out of you aft!" Jazz bellowed. The engine roared when the gas pedal was floored on the Martini Porsche. Peeling in front of Prowl and cutting the SIC off, Jazz kicked up dust in front of Prowl who coughed it back out through his exhaust. Just to tease Prowl and irritate him more, Jazz turned up the music to a blaring volume that shook the ground beneath their tires.

"JAZZ! _TURN. IT. OFF!_" Prowl yelled. Happening out of habit, Prowl's police lights blared to show how serious he was. His irritation grew along with his processor ache.

"JAZZ! TURN THE DAMN MUSIC OFF!"

"How about I turn it off for you?"

* * *

_All is lost again  
But I'm not giving in_

* * *

"Jazz! _Move_!" Prowl yelled as the F-15 Eagle dived nose first through the air. Laser fire shot upon the innocent desert floor, scorching the dusty surface. Jazz swerved out of the line of fire that was shot by Starscream, soon followed by a cackling Thundercracker.

The Cybertronian jets that echoed throughout the air had sliced its way to the two positioned Autobots. The powerful rockets had deemed themselves thunder as the air surrounding them rejoined as one. Beyond the line of sight lining the horizon, heavy clouds with promising looks rolled in overhead. Their eyes heavy with tears to weep out soon dripped aimlessly across the barren land. Their pattern was inevitable as the slight and light patter of rain decorated the armor of the Cybertronians. Soon, the droplets became heavier and larger, falling faster from the disrupted nap of the clouds.

Prowl was hesitant to transform; though he had dealt with Earth's rain before. He was still wary of the water, it was different…in a good way. The acidic quality was not present in the gentle embrace of the natural car wash. Pushing his curious and worrisome thoughts away, Prowl transformed and pulled out his blaster. Aiming it at the two seekers looking to reach their scornful goal of conquer, Prowl pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet flew through the rain.

Jazz, however, wasn't worried or scared at all about the rain. He had dealt with the acid rain back on Cybertron while on a mission. The rain had almost decimated his frame work and inner most delicate circuitry. Though, that was eons ago, Jazz just dealt with from then on.

Jazz watched as his partner fired upon the Decepticon seekers. He complied with the act and followed the SIC's moves: transforming and pulling out his blaster. Jazz was not at all wary of the rain but rather had his thoughts lodged somewhere else, like the conflict at hand.

"I'll destroy you _Auto-brats_!" Thundercracker hissed, firing his revolver again at the two. Said mechs dodged the fire power with ease, stepping strategically to the side and side stepping out of contact. Though there were occasional minor injuries here and there as some of the fire grazed their shoulder and side abdominal plating.

Jazz brought up his blaster and aimed at the cock pit of Thundercracker who had not yet acquired his bipedal mode. The Seeker had made himself vulnerable with the nose dive and the cock pit facing Jazz. The saboteur took the chance and looked through the scope; finding his target in the middle of the vulnerable glass, Jazz pulled the trigger. The bullet flew through the air, and almost like it were in slow motion, the bullet peeled its way easily. Only the small shatter indicating Jazz had succeeded in his aim.

In a second, Thundercracker was in the air, the next he was on the ground in bipedal form in front of Jazz, peering angrily down at his shattered cockpit. Some wires that were positioned beneath the glass were shot and Energon leaked out, staining the interior of the Seeker. "You'll pay for that, fucker!"

"Ah'd like ta see ya try!" Jazz snapped back. Jazz watched as the Seeker before him growled then let out an angered snarl. Smirking and his visor lit brightly with anticipation, Jazz positioned himself for abrasive action: pedes spread and knees bent for immediate action while his servos were positioned for safety. He put one servo out in front of him, palm to his frame, and pulled his four digits in a 'come at me' stance. You had to love the Kung-Fu movies that humans watched.

Thundercracker growled and ran towards Jazz. In a blind rage, Thundercracker brought his fist back then up, with amazing force behind it, and squared Jazz right in the cheek seem. Jazz's helm flicked to the side from the force but recovered quickly. Jazz's lip was cracked and the Energon trickled down his chin. Bringing himself back to fight, Jazz was surprised by the blow to the nose and visor as Thundercracker kneed him, denting the plating. The saboteur flew back but stayed on his feet.

"So tha's how it's gonna be, huh?" Jazz said under his breath while wiping the Energon away with the back of his hand. Jazz could see surprisingly well even with the threatening crack down the left side of his visor. Thundercracker started to charge with his blaster, digit placed firmly on the trigger happily. The Seeker ran but didn't get far as Jazz delivered a clean cut with his pede to the enemies chest plating.

Dropping to his knees, Thundercracker curled over his abdominal plating as the blow was delivered, dropping his blaster that was kicked out of the way. Jazz brought his pede up again and kicked the injured Thundercracker hard, getting better leverage by gripping the wing and adding his full weight and body mass. The wing crumpled and Thundercracker cried out in pain. Jazz knew that a Seeker's wing was just as sensitive as a Praxian's, if not more.

With an angered grunt, Thundercracker whipped his foot around Jazz's, pulling the saboteur down to the ground and easing the servo of his wing. Jazz fell back on his skid plate but soon was not alone as he copied Thundercracker's clever maneuver. Thundercracker fell and his wing was soon grasped. Pain began to blossom through the wing joint as Jazz began to stand up. He tugged on the now broken wing and pushed the body down with his strong pede.

"Autobot scum…let go…of my fraggin' wing!" Thundercracker gasped in rage and pain.

"How 'bout no!" Jazz spat back, pulling the wing even harder and rewarded himself with a painful cry from Thundercracker. The cracking hinge of the wing joint brought on a sinful smirk to Jazz's lip components.

It wasn't before long that the Seeker's wing tore off painfully, leaving the spare blue and red metal scrapped and stained with Energon beside a gasping Thundercracker. The rain began to fall harder, washing away the evidence of Energon leaking from the wound. The joint longed for reattachment but was granted nothing. Jazz smirked cunningly and knelt down by the Seeker.

"Ah promise it won't hurt for much longer. Trust meh," Jazz whispered.

Thundercracker looked up with flickering crimson eyes, looking for the blue to see mercy but was greeted by the barrel of his own blaster. "…Please…have mercy!" _That was uncommon; Decepticons don't beg for mercy, nor do they give it, and they _certainly_ don't receive it._

"Ah'll show jus' 'bout all tha mercy ya show me an' mah team!" Jazz sneered. The saboteur wasn't one to kill but perhaps all the fighting and gruesome satisfaction of the leaking Energon was from his outmost rage on Prowl. _That had to be it!_

All sound seemed to erase in Jazz's mind as the click of the blaster trigger echoed, soon followed by a painful cry. Jazz watched as the shot made its new home in Thundercracker's abdominal plating, accompanied by the Energon emptying out of the wound. Jazz dropped the blaster and turned his helm to Prowl, hoping that his partner was alright.

He seemed to be doing okay…wait. _Oh, no_…

"PROWL!"

* * *

_I will not bow  
I will not break  
I will shut the world away  
I will not fall  
I will not fade  
I will take your breath away  
_

* * *

The beatings continued as well as the shower of laser fire. It was a constant pattern that was redundant in Prowl's book: revert to the ground and perform one-on-one confrontation, then transform into the air and perform the cowardly laser fire attack. The root mode of Starscream wasn't hard to spot through the pouring downfall. The bright yet dull blue of the thrusters and the now scarlet tip lines of the wings formed as a malfunction in his abortive camouflage attempt.

Then again, Prowl wasn't doing all that well either. The glistening snow white of his frame dulled down to a grey contrasted with the ebony black. The dark clouds overhead provided a cover but his frame was exposed with the rain ricocheting off his armor. With the added on wounds and the Energon leaking out, it smeared over to announce his presence. The muddy soil that once suffered from drought, used the rain as an advantage of a quicksand like substance; sucking in the form of Prowl.

The abrupt flash of lightning broke the masquerade used by the Decepticon, lighting up the leaking neon Energon soaking the metal. The dark clouds lit to a navy as the jet stood out of the bleak background. With the abrupt natural lantern that worked as a light source, Prowl found the pattern of the seeker. Pulling out his mangled blaster, Prowl found the target and pulled the trigger. The bullet forced its way through the humid atmosphere and punched a whole in the right wing.

"You fragging Auto_bot_!" Starscream screeched as he lost altitude and headed for a nose dive towards the ground. At high speeds, the seeker managed to transform before he face planted the muddy ground.

Moving strategically out of the way, Prowl cocked his blaster and pointed it at the Decepticon, with point-blank range, he wouldn't stand a chance. Walking cautiously towards the seeker, Prowl stood over head with the infamous icy glare.

"You're going to end this now aren't you?" Starscream chuckled. It was sickening. "Why don't you show mercy and shoot me already?"

"You're not worth it." Prowl said stoically. He raised the blaster so it when fired it wouldn't take long for the bullet to hit directly into the spark chamber.

Within a sudden moment, Starscream's devious crimson orbs lit up with a certain satisfaction then faded with an instant. No doubt his sudden thought was demonic if not something that fit the 'Con.

With a tingle crawling up his spinal column, Prowl listened carefully after Starscream's deep chuckle. "Aren't you going to grant me any last words?"

"What?"

"Always be aware of your surroundings."

"PROWL!"

Instinctively, Prowl turned his body away from Starscream and stared optic-to-optic to a grinning Skywarp. His demonic optics watched as Prowl's frame wracked from the sudden surprise. His grin grew wider at the Autobots second-in-commands reaction.

Prowl struggled to gain control of his body before it was too late. His slagging processor took a klick to freeze up and calculate how the black and deep purple Decepticon was able to sneak up on him. _I was caught up in the moment, how could I allow Skywarp to sneak up on me?_ Prowl scrutinized himself. Prowl's icy blue optics tracked Skywarp's servo: he was raising a blaster!

Skywarp wondered why Prowl hadn't moved yet. Oh, well, it only made the inevitable more fun. Why waste perfect energy to chase the puny Autobot when he could offline him now? Klicks later, he still hadn't moved and his blaster was nearing the pathetic forms intelligent helm.

Prowl watched with horror. Why wasn't his body moving already? It was agitating and frustrating. By now the blasters barrel was connected to the base of his glistening red chevron. A crack of lightning lit up the basin and a roll of thunder echoed throughout the planet. Prowl looked up into Skywarp's optics where no mercy peered out. Nothing crossed those optics to change his demonic, twisted, and sick mind. Nothing crossed his metallic face but the smile that promised an agonizing death.

With a ruthless smile printed on, Skywarp allowed his blaster to hum to life. Prowl still hadn't moved and it was pretty clear that he won. Prowl finally shuttered his optics,

_In 3…2…1…_

The trigger was pulled and fire boomed through the small battlefield, followed by the crack of lightning and a rumble of thunder.

* * *

_Fall_

_Watch the end through dying eyes_  
_Now the dark is taking over_

* * *

The pain filled frame stumbled backwards into the puddle of quick spilling Energon and mud. The optics were dull and the chest puffed out than back in, trying to calm the numb circuits within.

"Why you fuckin' Autobot!" The attacked shrieked.

Upon hearing the angered screech escape the Decepticon, Prowl opened his optics to stare at Skywarp. His black and purple frame shuddered and tried to erase the pain that thundered from his left wing. The black wing was smeared with his demonic life-blood.

"You'll die first instead of the frag-head of your _friend_!" Skywarp screeched again.

Prowl, upon feeling his nerves and joints loosen up from his shock, whipped his helm around just in time to see Jazz lower his blaster. His visor was darkened and the grim murderous frown printed along his facial plating was enough to say that he was serious.

"Ah don' think so." Jazz said with a murderous intention weaved within his once free spirit. Prowl stared at his comrade-in-arms then turned his helm just enough to place an icy glare upon Skywarp.

"Thank you, Jazz."

"Don' start Prowl! Why in tha _Pit_ didn'cha _move_?" Jazz demanded.

"My processor froze up." Prowl replied coolly, optic still watching Skywarp.

"Are ya tha' slaggin' stupid ta freeze up now? What tha hell did ya freeze up over?"

"Skywarp was suddenly behind me and I was caught off guard. Before I could do anything about it my processor was trying to process the ideal. And, there is no need to use such vulgar language, Jazz!"

"AH HAVE EVERY RIGHT TA USE VULGAR LANGUAGE YOU PIT-SPAWNED _GLITCH_!"

"Jazz!"

"What? Ya gonna chew me out for-" Jazz never finished his sentence. The black and white saboteur fell face first into the mud as his furious processor offlined. His form ceasing all violent tremors of adrenaline and anger. Standing rigidly behind the Autobot, stood the wounded and strength deprived Thundercracker. The butt of his blaster held high and at the point of where Jazz's helm hand once been.

Prowl stared at the Decepticon then passed a glance at Starscream who had been watching for his own sick amusement.

"You're at an end, Autobot. Might as well surrender for the sake of your friend." Starscream chuckled darkly.

Prowl narrowed his optics and looked to the three surrounding him. Skywarp turning off his pain receptors in his sensitive wing and Thundercracker standing tall and stubborn. Starscream stood to the front of the tactician with servos crossed across his white cock pit and red chest armor. The other two seekers stood as the last remaining points of the triangle, blocking an escape for Prowl on both right and left.

"Over my dead chassis." Prowl said under his breath murderously. He had his servo hovering over his blaster, ready to draw and shoot at any given time.

Starscream chuckled again, bringing his wrist-mounted missiles up at Prowl. "That can be arranged."

* * *

_Show me where forever dies  
Take the fall and run to Heaven_

* * *

Prowl ducked as the missiles were set loose. He drew his blaster and shot the weak component, Thundercracker. His battered frame provided a vulnerable opponent who would stand no chance to that of Prowl. Rolling out of the way of yet another blaster shot, Prowl brought his own blaster out and fired another shot to the torn up cockpit. His blast had lodged itself next to Jazz's, more wires were exposed to the cruel outside world and an Energon line was clipped. The force of the shot caused said seeker to stumble back, then fall when unconsciousness took his processor.

Prowl ignored the heavy frame hit the ground with the mud breaking the fall. His main focus was to overcome the other two seekers and get Jazz to safety. Knowing this and knowing that his plan of action was down, Prowl had a new objective to fight for. His determination bled through his icy glares theoretically burning the seekers to the Pit and his focused fighting. Prowl's blaster was his constant companion and was used wisely, only when needed.

After Thundercracker had fallen, Skywarp had stepped up to the plate to conquer the Autobot. A small pool of Energon was noticeable from where he walked over, some of his life-blood was spilling out of the side of his sneering mouth. The gaping hole in his black wing was no longer the deep ebony, but was now a sickening pink mixture. The pain began to chip off from the acidic quality within.

One peering red optic laid its cracked anger upon the prowling Autobot who stood still between the two Decepticons. Starscream was merely smirking mischievously, awaiting the perfect moment for his sick plan. Prowl saw the face and peered one icy glare to watch the scheming tyrant.

"You're outnumbered, _Prowler_." Skywarp mocked. His twisted smile crinkled his dented metallic face.

Prowl spat out oil that had lodged itself in his intakes while he earlier fought Starscream. It was his reply: 'does it look like I give a damn' wrapped up secretly within his low growl. Pulling out his blaster, he put an end to Starscream's wicked face and fired at his cockpit. Through the fight that he and Jazz had currently been caught up in, they learned that the cockpit was the most vulnerable part of their chassis. It was a blessing for them both to find such an easy spot to take them down at.

Starscream saw the bullet razor itself through the murky atmosphere. Unfortunately he didn't have enough time to escape before he fell back on his skid plate, trying to stop the Energon from leaking out.

Skywarp saw and taking Prowl off guard, he jumped at the chance and threw an uppercut at the black and white frame. Said frame had stumbled backwards, doing his best to recover from the blow. Skywarp brought up his muddy pede and struck out, kicking Prowl down to the ground where he could have the upper hand. He pulled out his blaster and fired at Prowl who dodged and rolled every which way to escape. Finally having enough, Prowl lunged himself with his pedes knocking into Skywarp's black chassis.

Skywarp grabbed the lower edge of Prowl's pede, twisting him so he would land on his face plates. Prowl, knowing the move, set his servos on the ground before launching himself back up and kicking the Decepticon in the face plates, breaking the lower lip component. The already streaming Energon began to pick up at a fast rate since the crack had grown.

Prowl had now brought his pede up in a roundhouse kick to knock Skywarp to the ground. Prowl was usually not a violent mech when in battle, more of strategy; he could leave the violence to Ironhide and the Twins. However, with his adrenaline pumping and finding a way to mix his violent lust with tactical loop holes, Prowl shot a bullet in Skywarp's wing joint, causing the mech to stay down.

Said mech had withered in pain once his wing had been shot at in point-blank range, the force and impact causing the pain to grow and intensify. His cries of pain did not satisfy Prowl though, instead he watched the Decepticon in his pain. Yes, it was a merciless act to offer no help like the Autobot cause had promised, but mechs like Skywarp who found bliss in their enemies Energon spilling and splattering deserved no mercy.

Continuing to watch, Prowl's gaze had no emotional tint to it. His glare held no sympathy but continued to peer in and judge the soul and spark of Skywarp.

"Damn you to the _Pit_ you Autobot! You will pay for this act, and I'll make sure of it, rest assured!" Skywarp cried out.

"Perhaps you may continue to think upon your revenge as you lay in your own Unicron spawned fluids that you _dare_ call Energon. You are no creation of Primus, you belong in the slagging _Pit_."

"Yet you continue to call yourself a creation of Primus when you watch me! And, for your own fuckin' preference, my revenge will come sooner than you think!"

"Only time will tell; your hyperbolism is a bluff."

"Is it a bluff? Do tell _Prowler_," A voice mocked.

Prowl had no time to react as the indescribable pain that he had expected earlier now lodged itself within his back between his sensitive doorwings.

* * *

_All is lost again  
But I'm not giving in_

* * *

Energon bonds were the chosen chains that usually withheld the captives aboard the Nemesis. It wasn't uncommon to see them set at their highest frequency so that any prisoner who tried to escape couldn't without having extreme pain. That was precisely the intentions of the Decepticons anyhow. It was right now at that current time that the Energon bonds were lit aflame to hold the prisoners in their place. The bars for extra security stood untouched with guards watching the entrance.

The brig was dark, murky in fact. Brutality was the way of the Decepticons so it would seem natural to find dried stains of Energon fluids decorating the wall and floor. The bright purple color that once housed in the life-blood now was drained out and dull, only pale light could determine its position. And it was the dull blue visor that lit up to catch a glimpse of where he and Prowl were left.

Looking around, Jazz saw the Energon stained metal, the splattered floor, and the bright glow of the Energon bonds. He also saw an unconcious mass sitting off in the opposite cornerfrom him, the form seeming to be offline if it was Prowl. Brightening the resolution to the normal brightness of his visor, Jazz saw the Energon tinged white and the disturbing mixture of black. The splash of red that sagged with the white helm no longer housed the gleaming crimson, but was broken off at the sharp tips; mud stained the remaining bits. Looking to the back of the body that was noticeable from where Jazz sat, his precious doorwings were no longer graceful but rather sagging at an odd angle.

Jazz had been staring at those graceful doorwings that he hadn't noticed the smoke rising from behind him. When he did notice them, his optics widened and he stared. The rotting stench of fried circuits and wires lit up the small room. The misting smoke rised in its graceful movements upwards, staring Jazz in the face plates with that mocking smile.

"What have they done to ya?" Jazz asked more to himself. His visor dulled a bit at the thought of what they had done to Prowl. After all, he really didn't have any wounds or external damage besides the splitting processor ache from the butt of Thundercracker's blaster.

"Damn Decepticons," Jazz said aloud. He really wasn't waiting for an agreement or a reply but received one anyway. When he heard the low painful groan of the reawakening Praxian, Jazz peered over to the dark corner where dull painful optics met his.

"W-what happened?" The voice asked. It was an honest question that usually was asked first, it was normal. What wasn't normal was the large gasp that escaped Prowl's mouth as the regrettable realization hit him. "And what is that horrid pain?"

"Easy Prowler; ya got hurt pretty bad an' ya don' want ta strain yaself." Jazz explained.

"Mmm, so it would seem." Prowl winced again, trying hard not to flex his fragile doorwings that came with instinct.

There was utter silence afterwards. Both looked at eachother, studying one another for any signs of what might happen next. The foreshadowing ending as they sat in complete and awkward silence. Both haven't been together in a room since their mission was given by their Prime.

Jazz held his glossa; he wasn't a bot that enjoyed silence too much. He was one to play around the music and keep the mood living, not stay in utter silence. However, now was not the time to bring about conversations to the 'Bot that he hasn't been on good terms with. Quite personally he wanted to Prowl that this was his fault and his own doing that caused them to be in this predicament. If he hadn't had such a problem with his music and kept his temper in check, it wouldn't have to be this way. It was annoying to him but Jazz sucked it up anyway.

* * *

_I will not bow  
I will not break  
I will shut the world away  
I will not fall  
I will not fade  
I will take your breath away_

* * *

The silence stretched over the small space, covering the forms that calculated ways to escape. Both stirred cautiously, minding the binds that threatened to cut their armor and precious circuits. Their tired and hurting optics carefully maneuvered their way around the space, avoiding eachother and watched the cell bars. Any wrong move didn't go unnoticed between the two. Even though both hated one another for the time being, they both watched for each others safety.

A low hiss was the example that satisfied their beliefs. Jazz looked to the source to see Prowl's face scrunch up into a painful scowl. His doorwings were held high upon habit and his spinal column erected itself painfully. His movements brought the painful zap to echo throughout the brig.

"Prowl, be careful would ya? Ah really don' want ta bring ya back in worse condition than ya already are."

"I really do hope that I had thought of that for myself first. Thank you Jazz for pointing out the obvious!" Prowl hissed back.

"Don' start tha' slag again, Prowl! Ah'm only tryin' ta help." Jazz couldn't hold it in any longer. If Prowl wanted to be a pain in the aft, so be it. He could play that game too. "Believe it or not but you're not makin' it any easier for ya! After all, this is your fault."

Prowl stopped moving at that. He turned his helm to see the very serious glare of the saboteur: everything from his dead set line of his lips to the dull blue of his visor. It was the same blue that signaled when he wasn't in the mood to play around or even deal with nonsense.

"What are you talking about, Jazz?"

"Ya know _'xactly_ what Ah'm talkin' 'bout. We wouldn't be in this mess if ya would've le' me play meh music!"

"Jazz, Optimus said that it was a mission that required stealth and logical thinking. When was it said that music helped with either of them? Completely contradictory, you idiot!"

"Yes, when we GOT THERE! We were drivin' so don't turn it 'round on me!"

"I am not 'turning it around' on you; I am merely stating that what you did was illogical when it came to stealth that it was _precisely_ what has put us here. I am not at fault for trying to follow orders unlike _you_, Jazz. If you cannot follow that order, it is a miracle by Primus how you are eligible to follow everything else. And it is also a miracle how you managed to become third-in-command with your shameful habit." Prowl said coldly, each word was a razor blade as they scrape on Jazz coolly.

Jazz stared at his comrade-well, former comrade. He took a second to let the words cut him, feel the hurt that they inflicted course through his circuits with the adrenaline. His visor lit up ever so slightly with each passing way, joints stiffening, and frown deepening into the anger that finally set. Jazz's servos started to shake as his digits slowly curled in on themselves to form a tensely clenched fist made of metal.

"Well, at least there's at least one thing that Ah have that _you_ don'," Jazz replied quietly.

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Ah know what life means an' how ta live it. If ya don' know that, then ya might as well offline. If only tha 'Cons had left it tha' way."

Prowl was about to comeback to the death wish but was cut short as the sound of other pede steps made their way to their position. He listened intently to the quiet rhythm; pinpointing when the next foot fall would fall. The pattern was slow, filled with painful movements. Prowl narrowed his sensors in on the sound; with this action he found that there were two hurting bodies that made their way to them.

"What are ya doin', Prowl?"

"Shut up, Jazz, I have my reasons."

"What are they?" Jazz pressed. At that, Prowl growled in irritation and missing out on the fact that the two moving bodies had made their way closely to the cell bars.

"Oh," The answer was confirmed with the two bulky forms of Seekers: one mostly black and the other blue. Both with welded plates and anticipating wings.

Prowl and Jazz looked up to see the two Decepticons. Standing outside of the cell walls stood Skywarp and Thundercracker; and they looked pissed.

* * *

_And I'll survive, paranoid  
I have lost the will to change_

* * *

The room fell silent, all tension between Prowl and Jazz gone as they were stared down upon the two before them. The tension rerouted itself into the problem in hand, earning the nervous nerves of the Autobots. They kept their nerves under control for good measures; if they were to pull something, the glint in their optics would ensure that it was the last move they made.

"Remember us?" Thundercracker boomed. His optics gleamed with hatred; he had to control his every move to _not_ beat the dented face plates of the Autobots in.

"How could we not? Ya can't fight, ya fragger!" Jazz spat back. "No wonder you're pissed."

"You got something to say, Auto_bot_?" Skywarp hissed, pulling out his blaster.

The hiss of the barrel buzzed to life as it was targeting Jazz's helm. Unfortunately, the fear that Skywarp had intended didn't come easily to the saboteur. Instead, it only spiked Jazz's anger higher.

"What's tha worst thing you can do? Shoot me?"

"Jazz," Prowl tried.

"Why you-"

"Wait," Thundercracker said quietly. His voice wasn't as quiet as to where no one could hear it, and it wasn't as loud as to where you had to guard your audios. His tone was evenly pressed to where it was the perfect volume to stop the on coming violence. Shifting his servo in front of Skywarp, Thundercracker stopped the other Seeker.

"Lord Megatron said not to harm them."

"Yet," Skywarp finished, smirking with that evil glint in his glowing red orbs. As if he had suddenly realized that Prowl was there, he swiftly turned on his heel and stared at the SIC. His smirk had grown and his metallic lips uncovered the rotting denta beneath that only belonged to monsters; and Skywarp indeed _was_ a monster.

Prowl stared back at Skywarp, tracking his every small move. The malice in his optics burned brightly with fire that would soon melt the ice in Prowl's. A deep chuckle echoed through the patched up frame work of the 'Con. The sound pierced Prowl's processor with the multitude of different scenarios based on what he could find so funny. The inevitable was something that he really didn't want to think about.

Skywarp inclined his head to Thundercracker who looked back to the other Seeker. Their optics met in unison as well as the nod that soon followed. Prowl watched and studied their behavior, knowing what was to happen next. It was the same behavior that was communicated through the bond of the Twins and Bluestreak sometimes. It was clear that these two were bonded.

Jazz on the other hand, watched with an infuriated glare. How was it that they found Prowl so invitingly interesting? It was sickening. He knew Prowl was a beautiful mech and all, but…but. _There _is_ no excuse_, Jazz thought. There was no excuse to erase the feeling of jealousy. Jazz still loved the mech. And to his dismay, the jealousy spiked when he saw Prowl being lifted against the bonds.

The painful cry pierced Jazz's sensitive audio horns, the buzz mixed in with the static of Prowl trying to speak clearly. His visor picked up the cutting edge of the bonds scorching the metal and deactivating some miscellaneous circuits. The pain filled sound was torture, and he wasn't the one on the receiving side.

"Not as strong as you think you are, are you?" Skywarp teased.

"Stronger…th-than you'll ever be…"

A growl escaped the 'Con and he heaved Prowl up higher, the sizzling filling the room with the smell of melting metal and circuitry.

"If it weren't for orders, I'd kill you, you selfish bastard!"

A soft chuckle brought Skywarp out of his frenzy, and he turned to see Thundercracker smiling softly. The cell bars were deactivated from where he stood, his servos crossed over his cockpit.

"We will have our fun soon enough, 'Warp. Bring him," With the serious note played at the end of his sentence, Skywarp disengaged the bonds. With a growl, he hoisted Prowl free and dropped him harshly to the ground where he dragged him out.

"PROWL!"

"JAZZ! PUT. ME. DOWN! Please…"

He was gone along with the screeching sound of metal against metal.

"PROWL!"

The concern echoed throughout the brig as Prowl's name rang out. By the time that Jazz had snapped out of the curse of jealousy, Prowl and the revenge seeking Decepticons had exited the brig. He was alone with the not so reassuring Energon stains to keep him company. The hum of his own bonds restrained him. It was quiet, too quiet for his liking, but he had to endure it.

* * *

_And I'm not proud, cold-blooded fake  
I will shut the world away_

_Open your eyes!_

* * *

The fists rained down on the table, denting the soft metal beneath them. The waves of frustration rolled off Skywarp. His sneer was identified as ruthless and cunning. The crimson eyes that had locked themselves on his intended target. Thundercracker stood by the interrogation room door, blocking any type of escape. He watched his partner and mate release his fury onto the Autobot in front of him.

"Answer me, slaggit!"

Prowl looked up into the optics that stared at him. He raised his doorwings only to feel them droop back down again. His stance was slouched so strain would be eliminated from his wound. His own optics narrowed in a stubborn refusal to cooperate. In return for his refusal, a hand reached out and grabbed hold of his chevron.

A cry of pain echoed throughout the room when the remaining bit of the gleaming ruby metal was struck by the force of a hand of iron. The grip was strong, the metal bending beneath the force.

"You gonna answer me? I don't have to break your beautiful chevron do I?"

"…No…" Prowl swallowed hard through his intakes, keeping his pain in check so he wouldn't seem vulnerable.

"Then answer me! Why were you in the desert with the head of Spec. Ops.?" Even though Skywarp was a Decepticon, he still knew who the head of Spec. Ops. was.

"…It was simply…reconnaissance… We were told to patrol the area as were a few others…"

"Patrol, huh? Then why were you and _Jazzy_ heading in the direction of our base?" The pressure increased. It was enough to drive any mech with a chevron mad, but it wasn't enough to make Prowl cry out in pain.

"…Yes, patrol… If you want me to answer you anymore questions, I suggest…you let go of my chevron…"

That remark had taken both Skywarp and Thundercracker off guard. Sure they've heard smart remarks before; they've taken in the Twins and heard worse but this was Prowl. It was usually uncommon to hear such from such a cool and collected mech to both Autobots _and_ Decepticons.

"Excuse me," Thundercracker said.

"…You heard me…let. go…"

"Are you talking back to me?" Skywarp asked in disbelief. His agitation boiled beneath the shock but wasn't far from boiling over the top.

"…Isn't that how you have a conversation…?"

* * *

_I will not bow  
I will not break  
I will shut the world away  
I will not fall  
I will not fade  
I will take your breath away_

* * *

Jazz sat quietly in the cell, watching the cell bars for any indication for the return of Prowl. The deafening sound of silence engulfed him in its mockery, doubt growing and weaving all around him. His optics darted from the empty corner to the guarded entrance.

He couldn't bring himself to live with himself if anything had happened to Prowl. He couldn't bring himself to forgive himself for the last thing he had said to Prowl. The hatred that loomed over them, their partnership and relationship at risk if he was gone. _Primus, keep him safe; for me, for the crew, for my spark…_

As if on cue, the familiar voices of the Decepticons earlier loomed within walking distance. The same sound of their Unicron forsaken laughter, their heavy pedes, the spark stopping sound of the metal scraping the floor. _Primus, please don't let him be offline. Don't let that beautiful mech be offline._

* * *

_And I'll survive; paranoid  
I have lost the will to change_

_And I'm not proud, cold-blooded fake  
I will shut the world away_

_Fall!_

* * *

The damaged frame fell to the musky ground in front of Jazz. The gleaming red chevron that once adorned his precious white helm was ripped off brutally. The right doorwing was barely hanging on to the joint that connected it. It was a horror show starring his best friend and love interest. It was a sick show that the Decepticons found amusing.

"Pr-Primus, Prowler! What did they do ta ya?"

The form moved and it was a face that Jazz never wished to see. The optics of the once cool and collected tactician were vulnerable, scared, and broken. The lip components were cracked with the dent just below the left optic. His angelic nose was broken, the peculiar bump of the metal tearing at the base. Jazz's visor dimmed and Prowl knew it was the safety of his comrade.

Prowl found the strength to hoist himself up on his shaking servos to reveal a large and gaping hole in his abdominal plating. Jazz's jaw dropped to the preview and at the amount of Energon that was spilling; a pool of it had already formed from the short time he was on the ground.

"WHAT THA FRAG DID YA DO TO 'IM?"

"Nothing big, I don't know why you're making such a big fuss." Thundercracker rolled his optics.

"NOTHIN' BIG MEH AFT!"

"Careful there, Jazzy. You don't want to overstep, it's your turn."

"…N-no, I-I'll go… Spare him and t-take me…" Prowl stuttered. His voice was filled with static, leaving his servos shaking again. He coughed up Energon from his intakes; Jazz watched the small amount make a big impact as it splattered the floor.

"Alright," Skywarp chirped, making his dive for the downed Autobot.

"NO! If ya want me, Ah'll go. Jus' don' hurt 'im anymore." Jazz pleaded.

"Very good," Thundercracker chuckled. He bent down low to Prowl's face next. "You see, all this could've been avoided if you were cooperative. Until next time, then."

Skywarp had already grabbed Jazz and began to drag him out of his corner and out the cell.

"…Jazz! No…!"

"Ah'll be a'ight Prowler. Don' worry,"

Prowl hoped that he was correct and prayed to Primus that he'd keep him safe. Primus must've hated them both with a passion. Jazz's deafening scream resounded throughout the base, leaving Prowl wishing it were him and not Jazz.

* * *

A/N: I do not own the song or lyrics. The song used is 'I Will Not Bow' by _Breaking Benjamin_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: It's finally done. I'm sorry that's it's taken soo long. And I can already tell that you guys are going to hate me for the rest of story. So now, I'M SORRY!

Rating: M (Graphic!)

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters. I only own the plot

**Warning: This is big! There is language of both english and Cybertronian cursing. Also there is sexual interaction (M/M). Please read if you wish, enjoy, and comment.

****Rape does happen in this chapter (M/M); also graphic torture. If you don't like then please don't read.****

* * *

"…Jazz! No…!"

"Ah'll be a'ight Prowler. Don' worry,"

"…Ja-Jaaa-…" That was the last of it; the rest of his name was carried out by static. Said mech wasn't that far away from the shared cell but, he could clearly hear the gasp of pain and the collapsing sound of that precious and battered frame. Prowl had fallen unconscious from the Energon loss he suffered.

"PROWL!" Jazz screamed. Skywarp continued to drag him on, away from the downed Autobot. Jazz let himself be dragged while he was in shock. The sight of Prowl fighting unconsciousness and urging him to go on was the one thing snapped him back to reality.

Now tugging and pulling free of Skywarp's hands, Jazz got to his feet and ran. Jazz desperately tried to shove his pride aside. He couldn't afford his emotions for what happened get in the way of how he felt now. This was Prowl who he was running to; not to scold him or even merely check if he was alive; but to stay with him, to be by his side…to love him…

Jazz put the unregrettable distance between him and the Decepticons. The speed he kicked up brought him closer to the shared cell. It was so close. _He_ was so close…to his Prowler. The closer he came to, the more he could see of the unconscious body laying on the ground; that one hand outreached and desperately stretching for Jazz.

Jazz kept on pushing on…he was so close.

Suddenly, out of the blue it seemed, the strength of energy wrapped its slithering self around the pede farthest from Prowl. Jazz ignored the bind knotting itself around him. When he moved to take another step, however, it was hard to ignore it. The thrust of his pede was pulled back, forcing Jazz to fall on his face. De ja vu, showed itself once again as he was dragged back to Skywarp and Thundercracker's position.

"PROWL! PLEASE, NO!" Jazz yelled clawing at the ground. Sparks flew as metal against metal screeched across the Nemesis's floor. He gained himself a few more inches up but was quickly drawn back once more.

It was useless. He couldn't get to Prowl when his foot was caught. Still, he had to keep trying. To keep going. To keep his hopes high. With one more clawed servo, Jazz darted his hand out and a sliver of hope shone in Jazz's bleak future. His desperate middle digit stroked that of Prowl's just before he was pulled back again.

"PROWL!" Jazz screamed out again as soon as he felt the clawed hand wrap around his ankle.

"PROWL! PRIMUS, NO!"

"Would you _shut up_? Prowl is offline as far as I can tell. He isn't gonna save you so, shut up and get over it!" Skywarp snapped. After the statement, Skywarp dragged Jazz down the corridor. Jazz not only watched Prowl fade in the distance, but also his paint leave behind the trail that he was taking. Flecks of white and dashes of blue and red stared back at the saboteur, wishing him luck with the vengeful Seekers.

"YA HURT PROWL; _MY_ PROWL!" Jazz yelled, clawing at the ground again. Skywarp kept his grip firm around the ankle. Every now and then he would feel the pause as Jazz drag himself an inch or so closer to the brig. And every now and then Skywarp would yank Jazz back with the same force he had been using.

The same routine had happened for a few nanokliks more until it was enough. The fit had to stop and that was just what Thundercracker was going to do. Subspacing the Energon whip that Skywarp had used to drag the Autobot back, he traded it with an Energon rod.

With a feral growl of agitation, Thundercracker turned on his heel and just about hit Skywarp in the face with his own. He looked back behind his mate and down where the fussy Autobrat was.

"Stop fighting it! You're not getting out of this and you know it! Just be lucky that _Prowl_ isn't going to go through what you will!"

Jazz kept his servos outstretched before him but stopped the fighting. His stare was locked angrily back down the hall to where the now invisible cell was. Upon hearing the mentioning of Prowl, his visor dulled.

Thundercracker noticed this and erected his back a bit. He chuckled before he said, "That certainly got your attention didn't it? Your precious Prowl; ha! He won't last the night. When we're done with you, you can spend the last couple of vorns with your _precious Prowl_!"

Thundercracker watched as Jazz kept his seething stare straight ahead, waiting for further movement. He shifted his weight from one pede to the other as he watched nothing play out below him. Narrowing his optics, he watched as Jazz brought his servos slowly, ever so slowly, back to his body; his digits curling themselves into a tight fist.

"C'mon, Skywarp," Thundercracker finally motioned for his mate to follow and continue to pursue their destination.

Jazz watched out of his peripherals as Thundercracker left to take the lead once again. He felt the friction between his frame and the floor once again as Skywarp dragged him. He brought one fisted servo into his subspace pocket where he stored the one thing that they had forgotten to fish out of him: his Energon dagger that he only used during spy missions.

Skywarp felt the shift in the Autobot. His ankle jostled as it twisted for a better position than on his scraped-up abdomen. Now, instead of the tip of the white foot facing down, it was pointing up. It was just as uncomfortable for Skywarp to be dragging a body like that as it was for Jazz to be dragged that way. But of course, the Decepticon didn't care for the Autobots comfort, he cared to drop his useless aft off and pursue business that awaited him.

Jazz, now lying on his back, set his vision onto the target before him. His dagger-wielding servo has bent at the precise angle of elevation for him to whip his wrist and send the Energon dagger flying. He watched patiently, waiting for the exact moment…and here it was.

Flicking his wrist with the speed that he built up through training, Jazz watched the dagger fly through the air. The silent hiss that was released as the tip cut through the air was only audible for delicate audios like his. He watched with satisfaction in himself as it flicked by Skywarp's helm, grazing the side of his black helm and pinning itself in the middle of Thundercracker's wings. Almost as fast as the dagger had flown, Skywarp had grasped his helm and then quickly pulled out the dagger in Thundercracker's back.

"That was a big mistake! We'll see whose laughing after we're done with you!" Thundercracker sneered low and menacing. He had marched over to where Jazz laid with his chassis bare and silver from how he had been dragged.

Jazz stared back; his jaw set and visor almost white with hatred shining everywhere. He didn't open his wise mouth, or even indicate that he cared; he just continued to stare, his heated fact plates announcing everything.

Thundercracker growled as he watched the light fade from Jazz's visor as he dug the Energon rod deeper into his neck cabling. The electricity was just a taste of the beginning. Thundercracker twisted the rod and gave off another round as Jazz's frame fell limp with the last spasm spent. When he pulled the rod away, he turned it off from its highest settings and huffed through his vents. Irritation spiked its last course as he erected his back once again and turned to Skywarp.

"Way to go T.C. What ever happened to business before pleasure?" Skywarp teased. That small mocking smile printed across his smug face plates.

"That _was_ business. Megatron said to do anything within our power to shut his aft up when he got smart."

Skywarp stood where he was and searched Thundercracker's inviting optics. He saw no lies floating in the sea of crimson or even feeling any smearing of their stains through their bond. What he did see and feel was the intriguing excitement that seemed to make his spark flutter with the utter thought. It was the unmistakable feeling of what Thundercracker felt before he interfaced with Skywarp.

* * *

The room was dark, little light escaped from below the door. A dimly lit light was cast over the unconscious body of Jazz. The musky color of the light encircled Jazz and left the corners the dark and empty void that they were. The occasional sound of bickering between Starscream and Megatron echoed unsurprisingly though the base. A set of heavy pedes had passed by, the thumping echoing throughout the room with a keen sense of subtleness. All other sound had come to a stand still when the stirring of a metal frame shifted on the chair it sat upon.

Upon moving his digits occasionally, Jazz slowly onlined his audios first; allowing them to detect any noise or threat that his optics might not. Next, Jazz onlined his optics, his visor glowing brightly within each klick. He cautiously peered around him; moving his helm slowly to the left then to right. Once he had assumed no possible threat so far, Jazz allowed himself to examine his surroundings. His fuzzy processor, still trying to heal itself, noticed the unmistakable blandness of an interrogation room. The table bolted in front of him with numerous amounts of dents. The walls were a dull gray, maybe even dark purple in color; there were occasional splattering of Energon.

Jazz found himself propped up onto a chair, the back biting into his circuitry beneath his canopy. Shaking his helm to alleviate the fog of fuzz and the sea of static, Jazz raised a servo to caress his aching head. When the command didn't go through the first time, he tried again. Unable to determine why his ligaments weren't working, Jazz's first reaction was to look down. That was when he noticed the restraints of Energon bonds; the same used in the brig. The tight bonds restrained any arm movement and he wondered why he didn't pick up on it sooner. Looking down, he noticed his pedes strapped tightly to the front legs of the chair. Irritation bubbled up inside him as he tried to force his way through them. He winced when the familiar hiss of movement threatened to delve deep into his armor and circuitry. He tried again. A frustrated growl escaped his scratchy throat due to his predicament.

There was a chuckle from one of the dark corners behind Jazz. Jazz turned his helm uncomfortably behind him to see where the sound had emanated from. From the bleak void in the room shown two sets of sadistic crimson orbs; the foreshadow they held for Jazz was dark and undesirable. They shown with a certain shine that always ensured struggle and suffering. These were the optics of Decepticons.

"I see he's finally awake, yes?" One voice asked. It was chipper, anxious even. Coming out of the dark void, a black and violet mech came into view. His smile was splayed over his face plates but seeped everywhere through the friendly voice that was played.

"Ah, yes, Skywarp. Sooner or later he'd have to wake up to reality." The other voiced in. This voice was calmer, collected. Coming out of the artificial camouflage as well, the deep navy and red mech stood tall. There was a certain authority that hid in the baritone voice but was identified through temper and his physical stance.

Thundercracker and Skywarp.

"Ah'm sure tha' most o' tha ones who come online ta this 'reality', wish they ha'n't. _You two_ are a waste o' time an' spark energy." Jazz sneered with his helm now turned back in front of him.

Jazz ignored the slight rocking of his bonded frame as the heavy foot-falls of their pedes coerced with eachother to his position. One pair stopped just behind his chair while the other stopped in front of the table on the other side of Jazz. He felt cold metal digits caress his shoulder armor lightly, pressure weak but could and would snap anytime. Jazz watched cautiously as black and navy hands slithered to a stop on the table in front of him. From the weight settling along the vulnerable metal, the table began to bend with a creak here and a whine there.

Thundercracker looked down upon Jazz, waiting for the Autobot to acknowledge his prideful presence. He longed to see those pleading optics stare up into his, to see the wish of mercy. He longed to hear those pleading words escape the strained vocals of the saboteur, to hear the gasp of each pain filled scream, to hear the crying "please" and "no" tickle and caress his audios. He could taste the excitement on his glossa, he could predict the sweetness of the Energon that would bleed out of Jazz. His hopes were high and his wish was prayed repeatedly. The small chance of finally seeing his fantasy came when Jazz had elevated his helm just a bit.

"Ya'll pay for whatcha did ta Prowl. Tha' there is meh promise to ya." Jazz whispered; his tone low, menacing and murder weaved throughout each syllable.

The feral growl of patience finally dwindling down into oblivion hadn't fazed Jazz; he hadn't even flinched as the table whined with relief as the weight shifted off abruptly. A fist had slammed down onto the metal table, causing it to shudder. Another dent had embedded itself into the weak frame from the fist. Jazz kept his gaze glued onto Thundercracker's; knowing that he couldn't look away even if he had a choice. In an instant he stared up into the anxious orbs, now he was optic-to-optic with them as Thundercracker's stiff hand grabbed at Jazz's cheek struts. His helm was forcefully brought up, a keen whine sounding from his neck cabling. The force was monumental as he ran his glossa over the intruding facial metal.

"Careful; must not overstep." Skywarp sing-songed. His hands tightening ever so slightly on Jazz's shoulders as he lowered his helm to Jazz's sensitive audio horn.

"Now you listen here, fucker! You make anymore smart remarks, back talk, or even _think_ of doing so, you'll watch as I tear your _precious Prowl_ apart slowly, painfully. Every _bit_ of remaining life will be ripped out of him, and you'll have front row seats to the event. That is _my_ promise to you!" Thundercracker growled. He drew out each word, watching as each flinch and each shudder wracked Jazz's frame.

Thundercracker and Jazz continued to stare into each other's optics; the hate had already blossomed and continued to grow into a fire that now burned with loathing. Each saw something that the other didn't: for Jazz, it was a sliver of excitement and arousal swimming in that sea of crimson. The overwhelming feeling of what that arousal might trigger had caused a small shudder escalate up Jazz's spinal column. Thundercracker saw that feeling floating in the visor full of mystery. Stubbornness and pride masked the feeling but didn't hide completely. This caused Thundercracker to smirk.

Thundercracker felt Jazz's jaw set, a meaning of domination. He tested just how strong it was and forced more pressure into his digits, causing Jazz's cheek struts to cave in further. He saw that one small wince that set his excitement over the cliff it hung over. He tossed a glare at Skywarp who glared back up at him; the same evil smile piercing the sides of his helm. When Skywarp saw his mate give him "the cue", his own excitement peaked.

Skywarp tightened his hold on Jazz's unsuspecting shoulders, drawing his frame back and forcing his helm to stay painfully in Thundercracker's grip. Nuzzling deep into the cluster of neck cabling, Skywarp ran his glossa into the maze of wire. He ran his slick glossa up the length of Jazz's neck, making sure to coil around the thicker cables than the thinner ones. As he continued this with a smirk of what was to come, he placed a nasty bite of his denta to Jazz's main Energon line leaving the forceful indention.

Jazz forced his chin to lower in an uncomfortable manner as a gasp of pain exited. He arched his back as a reflex, drawing his face a bit closer to the smirking Decepticon in front of him. Thundercracker found the opening as an uninvited invitation. Pulling Jazz's face roughly towards his, he forced his lips harshly to his, crushing the gentle parted metal. Darting his eager glossa into the cavern, Thundercracker explored and mapped out his new toy.

A loud moan sent vibrating waves of displeasure through the sensory nodes within Jazz's mouth. The glossa exploring lapped up every whine that threatened to come out and the rough mouth swallowed every cry. Upon feeling the tip of arousal pierce him, Thundercracker's hand hardened, widening the cavern where his glossa dug deeper and deeper into Jazz's throat. It was just enough to cause the pain that erupted into the domino effect.

The unwanted kissing, the landscaping within him, and the pressure denting his cheek plating. When the final pressure was pressed in, it was the crack in the fragile glass. Finding the will and the strength to break free of the crushing grasp, Jazz maneuvered his jaw to first loosen it then followed through with forcing his denta down like the guillotine. Catching Thundercracker off guard while he was caught in the moment, Thundercracker's sinful glossa was seemingly caught between the crushing denta plates.

The glossa tore away abruptly; one half tearing away completely. Thundercracker's hand released its crushing grip but didn't take away the dent. He clamped both of his hands over his mouth, trying to stop the flow of Energon from his bitten off tongue. Jazz watched with a hate that intensified with each klik. He turned his helm away from Skywarp behind him and shot the silver tip to the floor, Energon splattering along with it. The sour taste of Energon dewed along Jazz's bottom lip; he licked it away with a look of disgust soon to follow.

Skywarp turned a surprised look to the floor, deep crimson darkening. He tore it away when he heard the loathing growl uproot from deep in his mates throat, a sound that he never heard even when he really was pissed. Skywarp looked into Thundercracker's optics, attempting to meet his gaze only to find Thundercracker's own gaze was lost. Instead of focusing on Skywarp or even his disembodied glossa lying on the floor, his cold gaze of hatred was focused on the mech before him.

Jazz saw the fist make its round before placing a painful hit to his dented cheek plate. The force behind the fist was tremendous. His left cheek seam had finally busted, Jazz's glossa visible from the hole. Along with the hole, the left side of his visor had cracked and broken off, exposing his hollowed out optic.

Jazz's whole helm snapped to the left from the force; it was hard to break a neck cable, but apparently not to Thundercracker. The force of his fist caused the breakage of Jazz's left support cable.

Jazz brought his helm back around to look up at a seething Thundercracker; nothing but pissed off waves circulated off of his rigid and shaking frame. Jazz's helm, instead of standing upright and high like it usually was, lacked the strength to stay up on its own. With the lack of support available, Jazz's busted up helm faltered on the left side.

Skywarp walked around to the front of Jazz next to Thundercracker. Jazz waited for the next thing but found it suspicious when they just stood there. Thundercracker remained where he had been while Skywarp smiled darkly and set his servos onto the table, lowering himself to optic level. "You better watch what you say and do. You never know when it might cause you trouble." He chuckled darkly.

In return, Jazz sneered and directed his attention away from the Seekers.

* * *

Nothing. There was nothing he couldn't have done to Jazz's mind. He stood staring down the hall from the brig, staring at the paint chip trail that colored the dingy flooring. The slight sensation tingling from his hand held the reminder of the mech dragged away from him. Ragged breaths heated the floor where Prowl had fallen, the crisp pool of Energon still leaking beneath him. The throbbing of his abdomen seemed to force the Energon out and his spark pulse seeming to slow with the suffering.

_Where was Jazz…_

A few more ragged breaths later, Prowl struggled to hoist himself up despite the pain in his abdomen. His servos shook violently as he supported himself until he weakly brought his knees up. His strength had depleted along with his Energon, causing him to reel in the unneeded breaths just to hoist himself up.

Once Prowl's knees were drawn up, he allowed himself to loose equilibrium and fall to his back where the breaths reached for a few more vorns of functionality. The stingy air circulated throughout his aching body, the chill frosting his wires and blowing out the hole in his abdomen. His blank optics stared up to the ceiling. His glossa clung to the roof of his mouth, seeming to meld into the parched metal. Every noise was torture: the dripping of his own fluid, the silence, the screaming and yelling… All unbearable.

Prowl lay on his back, both knees drawn up and bent. His doorwing lay beneath his body, smooshed in an awkward attempt to still stay attached. Prowl could feel the hinge loosening with each twist that he made. His shaking hands clung to the hole in his abdomen, doing everything in his power to slow down the Energon flow. It was useless.

Prowl shuttered his optics, doing his best to save the left of his energy. The still silence continued on, never ending as it continued into the dark and depressing void that the Nemesis was. However, it was quiet, peaceful even in a perverse way of sorts.

But reality had to rear its ugly head once again and remind Prowl that the silence that engulfed him was the music of death.

As if the term 'death' had a cue, there was the horrific scream that echoed down the hall. The scream sounded familiar, all too familiar. Upon hearing this, Prowl lifted the top portion of his body up, his elbows balancing him up to loosen the strain from his abdomen. He peered down the hallway weakly, straining his neck as he did so. There was nothing to see other than the polished and waxy chips of Jazz's paint trailing along.

_Jazz…_

* * *

Jazz's dagger protruded on the other side of his right shoulder, piercing the air and staining the tip with his Energon. All movements and circuitry that once was available for Jazz's right arm were cut off, the ligament now limp and in pain. With a slight twist of the wrist, Jazz's right arm held on with thick wires and an Energon line. The cry of pain echoed throughout the room, vibrating the metal that surrounded him and the Seekers. Jazz jerked away from the pain, from the reality that encased him in this nightmare, from the very touch of Skywarp.

Said Seeker sat upon Jazz's lap; seductively purring in Jazz's audio horn. One of his servos graced itself upon his left shoulder, tingling the sensitive armor, while the other wielded the dagger. A sinful grin grew across Skywarp's face plates, sharp denta glistening in the little amount of light. Bright crimson orbs stared possessively into blue, sending a fear rattling up Jazz's spine.

A whine escaped Jazz as he felt his right arm go limp, feeling as if it had disconnected itself from his beaten body. He felt his own dagger be yanked out rather effortlessly, feeling the stained tip hovering over another part of his body. Jazz moved his head to the left from the messy scene of his shoulder, not wanting to meet Skywarp's excited gaze.

"Now, let's try this again shall we? Why were you coming towards our base?" Skywarp muttered softly, the low whisps of his breath tickling the sides of his helm.

Jazz gave no reply.

Skywarp grabbed the dented cheeks of Jazz and pulled his helm back around to face him. His forefinger hooked into Jazz's face where the hole had exposed his glossa. The pressure wasn't as great as Thundercracker had had it, but it was equally painful. The harsh thumb of Skywarp seemed to dig into his metallic plating.

"Why?" Skywarp shook Jazz's helm, trying to get an answer out of the saboteur.

Still, Jazz gave no reply.

"Don't wanna open your mouth for me? I'll gladly open it for you." Skywarp sneered, another nasty smile replacing that of his anger. His left hand was still firmly placed upon Jazz's face while the other brought the tip of the dagger up close to. The Energon already seeming to dry but the still wet remnants dripped down, running the length of the blade and to the handle.

Jazz, unable to move his helm anywhere else, gazed into the electric abyss that stood at the corner of his mouth. Panic arose throughout his frame, causing his armor to rattle from the force of his shudders. Skywarp found bliss in the obvious fear. It was a feeling that never ceased to pleasure his sinful circuits.

With a driving force that pushed his hand to the task, Skywarp dug the tip of the dagger into Jazz's cheek plate. He removed his forefinger so he could have better access to the side of the mouth. The ease of the dagger as it knifed through the metal was amazing; little effort was induced to drag the dagger through the crumpled and dented metallic metal. The sharp cry of Jazz withering beneath him provided the ever driving lust to continue, to be more powerful, to be a Decepticon.

Slowly, painfully, Skywarp dragged the dagger through the metal; each movement inched towards the small hole that marked Jazz's cheek. The hissing making its rounds as it burned its acidic blade through the metal. At the slightest touch, Jazz's glossa grazed across the tip, causing a droplet of Energon to glaze over the silver premises.

Streams of coolant sent their slippery waterfall down Jazz's broken face. The bitter taste of his tears fell through the hole and mixed with his Energon.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is this hurting you? Ya know, all this could've been avoided if you just answered us." Skywarp chuckled. Noticing the stream of coolant falling from beneath Jazz's visor, Skywarp licked up the length of Jazz's face; lapping the unwanted coolant. He smiled sinfully when he felt a shudder wrack through the frame he sat upon.

The final inch was cut as the dagger finally met the edge of the hole. Once was a wide grin that spread with the enthusiasm of life; now the smile had literally grown from the hate of a dagger. The smile had vanished, the enthusiasm had dwindled into nothing, the life had been torn away. All that was left was a broken bot who once had an outstanding personality. The current "now" had extinguished the bright future. Everything was gone.

A deep chuckle emanated in front of Jazz, littering his processor with hatred. Jazz looked up to see Thundercracker staring at the Autobot. His servos were placed on his hips, authority radiating off of his navy and red frame.

Jazz watched the Seeker while also being aware of the other on his lap. Watching as Thundercracker walked around to the back of his chair. Jazz turned his helm a fraction of the way, keeping his sensors still on high with the two Seekers.

Thundercracker leaned his helm low to the side of Jazz's helm, chuckling again. The air that cycled out of his vents tickled Jazz's helm, causing a deep shudder to escalate up his back.

"Why don't you talk to us, Jazzy? After all, we _are_ all bots aren't we?" Skywarp smiled, flashing his denta.

Jazz growled back. Obviously replying with a no.

"Hmm, maybe he needs a bit more encouragement." Thundercracker stated, licking Jazz's audio horn. He snickered when he felt Jazz stiffen up, hitching his intakes.

"Sensitive," Skywarp chuckled. "How do you suppose we encourage our little Autobot friend?"

Both chuckled lowly as a thought entered their processors at the same time, sending waves of fear and discomfort through Jazz's circuits. Both found bliss in his reaction, the sight causing them to continue. Another round of chuckles exited their eager mouths. Jazz kept stiff, holding back his fears so he didn't seem vulnerable.

Thundercracker smiled defiantly, as he ran the remainder of his glossa over Jazz's audio horn, earning a pleasurable shudder. He deactivated the bonds around Jazz's wrists but continued to hold them in place; denting the metal with his pressurized grip. He noticed the wince and jerk from the Autobot but further reactions were cut off by Skywarp.

The Seeker had scooted himself off Jazz's lap, positioning himself between his legs. He seductively dragged his clawed digits along the underside of Jazz's legs, leaving behind a sinful tingling sensation. Jazz clenched his jaw, holding in the agonized moan that wanted to escape. He felt a low moan vibrate from his knee, the chuckle chilling his circuits to toxic acid. Skywarp smiled, one servo caressed beneath Jazz's knee, holding him in place. The other servo ran clawed digits down his leg to the bonds, deactivating them.

Jazz stayed stiff, his jaw clenched with his servos curled into tight fists. He ignored the contact of the two lustful Seekers. He ignored their touching, teasing, and physical contact. The only thing he focused himself on was what was to come.

"No reaction, T.C.," Skywarp chuckled, running his helm and hands up Jazz's leg.

Here's a reaction for you! Jazz brought his spare pede up and kicked Skywarp back. The bottom of his foot connected with the Seekers right optic and cheek ridge. Upon impact, the glass protecting the devious red glow cracked. The metal ridge had left a dent, crinkling the metal.

Skywarp fell back onto his aft, holding the right side of his face. He cast a loathing gaze up at Jazz who sneered back with the same loathing look.

A feral growl bought Skywarp's attention. Said Seeker cast a glare up at his mate who grabbed Jazz's upper arm.

"WHA' ARE YA DOIN' NOW, YA UNICRON FORESAKEN PIT SPAWNED SLAGGER?" Jazz yelled.

"You want to be difficult? That's okay. Your _little attitude_ won't last!" Thundercracker spat back as he slammed Jazz down onto the ground. The chair that was previously occupied by Jazz fell back, the abandoned metal rattling with a clang.

Upon hitting the floor, Jazz's intakes were knocked free of the unused air. He curled in on himself, gasping for the air that was lost. He brought his servos to wrap around his torso but failed at the task. Other hands brought his servos up then slamming them to floor. The pressure squeezed his wrists, crushing the protective metal surrounding the circuits. He growled when foreign clawed servos touched his. He fought for the freedom that never came. Jazz only stopped fighting when the same body mass sat atop his. He looked up and hitched his intakes when he saw Skywarp straddling his waist.

He chuckled darkly as he bent down to lick up Jazz's facial plating again. He ran clawed digits down Jazz's sides, scraping off more white paint. "You'll pay for that!"

Jazz hitched his intakes once again as he held back a fearful whine. Skywarp chuckled again as his interface panel clicked back to expose his pressurized spike.

* * *

Prowl sat quietly on the wall, holding his abdomen. He brought in ragged breaths from the pain and worked hard to erase from his processor. Previously, his doorwing had fallen off its hinge, it lay lifeless by his aching frame. His optics were shuttered, keeping the little energy remaining in tact for emergency.

When the deafening sound of a body being dragged down the corridor reached his audios, Prowl opened his optics. He lifted his body up sorely, wincing at the pain. His remaining doorwing perked up, causing another wave of pain to course through his circuits.

"Fucking Autobot…" Prowl heard.

…_Oh, dear Primus…Jazz…_

Prowl looked up, stretching his neck cabling. The cell bars hissed in deactivation.

Prowl's intakes hitched painfully when he saw who the battered…rather broken…frame.


End file.
